Voldemort's Princess
by princessangelita
Summary: Lord Voldemort's daughter Cynthia, finds herself a major part of the war against the Dark forces. STORY NOW COMPLETE! RATED FOR VOLENCE, SEXUAL SCENES, AND A LITTLE LANGUAGE!
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY:** Lord Voldemort's daughter Cynthia finds herself a major part of the war against the Dark forces.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the other characters created by J.K. Rowling. This story is merely a fanfiction, written for pleasure, and I am not receiving any money or anything else for writing the story. Other than personal gratification, of course!

**Voldemort's Princess**

**Part 1: His Precious One**

**by Princess Angelita**

My name is Cynthia. The surname my Father has given to me, although not technically his, is Gaunt. My Father's surname, his true one, is Riddle. His true name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. But that doesn't matter, because no one knows him by that name. Yet everyone in the wizarding world knows who he is . . . what he has done . . . and everyone fears him more than they fear their darkest nightmares. Then again, he probably _is_ most people's worst nightmare.

My father is Lord Voldemort.

And I, Cynthia Merope Gaunt, am his only child. No one knows about me. Father made sure of that. When he was alive, he did not tell anyone about me except his most trusted Death Eaters: my godmother, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a married couple who cared for me, pretending I was their own . . . Theodeus and Calista Romanov. Since my Father's death, I have lived with the Romanov family, and they have been very kind to me. Indeed, I love them dearly, but not as I loved my Father.

I am sixteen years old, although I should be twenty-two. I was born six years before the infamous Harry Potter made his appearance into the world. When I was three years old, my Father got word of a Prophecy that somehow put me in danger. Because of this Prophecy, Father put me into a deep, magical sleep. One I would not wake up from until the danger was past. I did not age or grow during this time. This next part . . .

This is hard for me to write. Yet when one is writing about herself, one must write all the facts.

A Note: I learned all these things from the Romanov's, who have never hesitated to answer any questions I have had about my Father or myself.

You see, my Father died because of me.

My father learned that this Harry Potter boy had something to do with the Prophecy he had heard. There was another Prophecy by now, which gave my father two reasons why Harry Potter had to be killed. Three, actually. Potter's parents worked against my Father and had foiled several of his plans. Anyway, because my Father went to kill the Potter boy, because of the Prophecies, one which told him about a danger to me . . . because of all this my Father is dead.

Father killed Potter's parents, yet when he tried to kill Potter, then only a one-year-old child, the result was his own death.

I would have given anything to know what the Prophecies said, but the Romanov's never knew. Father kept that information to himself.

The moment my Father died, the magic keeping me asleep died with him and I woke up.

I remember awakening, in a strange bed hung with green. I called for my Father. No one answered but a house-elf whose name I didn't know. She was shocked that I was awake and seemed to sense something had happened to him. I know now it was because no spell can be undone except when the person who cast said spell either removes it or dies. The house-elf knew this. She alerted Bellatrix Lestrange, as she had been told to do by my Father in just such a situation. Aunt Bella Apparated in my room only minutes later. She looked terrible. It was the first time I had ever seen her with mussed hair, and torn robes. She had scratched her face and pulled clumps out of her hair. Her eyes were red and were filled with tears.

"My precious darling," she whispered. "Your Father has disappeared." She did not say dead. All the Death Eaters knew the precautions my Father had taken against death. I began to cry, not understanding. She picked me up and cuddled me to her, Apparating out of the room. We appeared in a home I knew well. That of the Romanov's, who had cared for me many times before. Aunt Bella whispered a few words in Calista's ear. A look of shock and dread came over her face, but when she turned to me, she had plastered a false, cheery smile on her lips. "Come with me, Cynthia. We will get you something to eat while your Aunt Bella looks for your Father."

For days I waited for word from my Father, but none ever came.

One day, several months after my Father first disappeared, a scraggly owl flew in the window as I ate breakfast with Uncle Theodeus and Aunt Calista. Uncle read the letter it contained, and his face turned stark white. "What is it, Theo?" Aunt Calista asked, her tone low and containing icy fear. He swallowed hard. "Bellatrix, along with Rodolphus, Jameson, and the Crouch boy have been arrested." A crystal goblet shattered on the floor, knocked over by Aunt Calista's arm as her hands flew to her mouth.

"What?" was all she could squeak out. "They were arrested for trying to find our Master," Uncle continued. "They captured the Aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom, and used the Cruciatus Curse on them until they lost their minds. They are sentenced to Azkaban with no hope of redress." "So what will we do?" Aunt asked, her voice shaking. "What we were told to, Calista," Uncle said, his tone sadder than I had ever heard. He turned to me with a look of pity. "Cynthia, do you understand?" I didn't, but I nodded.

"You will live with us until your Father returns, as he ordered. When he comes back, he will help your Aunt Bella." He cleared his throat. "And Cynthia, darling, I have to make sure you are safe. That means you must _never_, under any circumstances, tell anyone who your Father is. Until he returns, we must pretend you are our child. Do you understand?" I nodded, and I did understand that time, for my Father had told me basically the same thing many times before.

And so the waiting began.

During the first year after my Father died, I lived every day with the expectation of seeing him soon. So did Uncle and Aunt. They watched with trepidation as their fellow Death Eaters were either killed or imprisoned in Azkaban, living in fear in case they were next. Oftentimes I heard them whispering in their bedroom, wondering if they should make plans for my safety, but not knowing where I should be sent in case they were taken.

After another year passed, the tension in the household was almost gone. The hunt for stray Death Eaters had lessened, and Uncle and Aunt were breathing easier. I was then five years old, (I have always lived as if those three in sleep never occured), and had gone from impatient waiting for my Father to angry and irritable that he was not there yet. I spent hours rehearsing how I would give him a stern talking-to when he did return to me, telling him how mad I was that he kept me waiting for so long.

By the time I was ten, though, my hope . . . as well as the hope of Uncle and Aunt . . . had gone. Somewhere in the five years we had changed from saying 'he had disappeared' to 'he had died'. Sometime during those years I changed from being a child to an adult, in my despair and grief, in my anger and almost hatred of my Father for lying to me, for saying he would always be there when he wasn't. My feelings changed daily from loud anger to quiet hopelessness to tearful sadness.

I was never a playful child, although I had the best toys. Uncle and Aunt never had any children, and they doted on me. I disliked other children, and since my caretakers would never have allowed me to play with any other than the purest of purebloods, my choice of playmates would have been rather limited anyway. My closest companions were my nurse, Adela Avery, and my two English mastiffs, Ares and Athena. I had several tutors as well, from the time I was four. Professor Cassandra Malfoy taught me to read, write, and to do math until I was nine, then I began learning magic.

Professor Thaddeus Nott taught me Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and History of Magic, while Professor Vincent Macnair taught Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Herbology, and Potions. I learned Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Healing Spells from Professor Sylvia Greyback. My classes were from eight in the morning until four in the evening, with two half-hour breaks and an hour lunch in the middle. Professor Nott came Mondays and Wednesdays, Professor Macnair on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Professor Greyback came only on Fridays. This arrangement continued until I was fourteen years old.

My interests during that time would probably be considered rather boring by normal children. I enjoyed learning, and spent extra time doing homework and reading up on my subjects, especially Potions, Transfiguration, and Healing Spells, which pleased my teachers and Uncle and Aunt immensely. They all said I was an unusually intelligent child, and when the teachers were gone, Uncle and Aunt would nod at each other and say I was my Father's daughter indeed. In addition to schoolwork, I devoured books on various subjects, but mostly ones on the Dark Arts or anything that mentioned my Father. I also loved to fly and spent hours every Saturday on my broomstick, flying around the Romanov's twenty-acre estate deep in the heart of Wiltshire.

My life would have been perfect if only my Father could have been there.

Then came my fourteenth year.

My birthday was in August, and it so happened that the Quidditch World Cup was to be held in England only days afterward. Uncle and Aunt thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for me, so they purchased tickets. I was very excited. I had a new set of amber-colored robes that exactly matched my eyes, and since I was at the age to notice boys, I couldn't wait to see what they thought. I scrutinized myself in the mirror before we left. I was already dressed in the robes, since we were not staying the night there, just Apparating before the game and Apparating back home when it was over. (Side-Along Appariton for me, of course!)

I had always thought I was not beautiful, but I did think I was rather pleasing to look at. My eyes were a beautiful amber color, which turned scarlet when I was angry. I was very proud of my eyes since I had never met anyone with eyes like mine. They were large and almond-shaped, rimmed with long black lashes, and I thought they were just gorgeous. My face was oval-shaped with a pointed chin and high, prominent cheekbones that reminded me of my fathers. I had what I thought of as an aristocratic nose, and full, pale lips that I wished were redder.

My hair was dark brown and very thick, cut straight across in the middle of my back, and with bangs that were about an inch above my eyebrows. My skin, as Aunt always said, was the color of the moon. She told me this when I was little and another child teased me about my pale skin with it's slightly grayish tinge, which made me feel much better. When I thought about it, it _was_ the exact color of the moon on a clear night. Which was somewhat romantic to my teenage heart. I did not like my body, simply because I thought I was too thin. Aunt, who was plump, was constantly irritated by this view and told me I was not skinny but slender. Uncle, with a smile, told me that I looked just as a young woman should look. Perfect.

I did think I looked rather good when we got to the World Cup. My opinion was boosted by the admiring looks of all the boys who happened to see me. I merely smiled at them and continued walking between Uncle and Aunt, up to the Top Box where the Minister of Magic himself would be seated. We were the first ones there, except for a house-elf, and I took the opportunity to survey my surroundings. The stadium was beautiful, I thought, very large and open and built so everyone could see what was going on. Uncle had bought me a pair of Omnioculars, a velvet program, and little figurines of the most popular players from both teams. The Bulgarian team's Seeker, Viktor Krum, stalked around on my hand staring up at me with a surly expression, while the three Irish Chasers, Troy, Mullet, and Moran, their arms interlinked, danced an Irish jig.

I was immersed in the program when Uncle suddenly let out a strangled gasp. Aunt and I turned to look where he was staring. A red-headed man was entering the Top Box, along with twin red-headed boys, a tall red-headed boy, a red-haired girl, a girl with bushy brown hair, and a skinny boy with tousled black hair, green eyes, and glasses. Uncle was staring at the green-eyed boy with a mixture of anger, shock, hatred, and uneasiness. I furrowed my brow, wondering why, when the boy wiped his forehead, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him.

It was Harry Potter.

Because of him, I had no Father.

Aunt grabbed my chin and pulled me around to face her. "We cannot afford a scene," she whispered, her frightened brown eyes boring into mine. I nodded stiffly, and forced myself to look back down at my program. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't read it, so I picked up my Omnioculars, and suddenly got an idea. I turned towards Potter, pretending to look over his shoulder at some rowdy boys, while I caught his image in the Omnioculars. I faced them back towards the goal hoops and turned the knob to make the Omnioculars replay Potter's face, over and over again. Hate spread through my blood, making me feel as if I was about to boil over.

It was the thought of my Father, and what he would have felt if his beloved daughter ended up getting killed or sent to Azkaban, that kept me from killing Potter then and there.

Thankfully, a distraction came in the form of three blonde people . . . a man, woman, and boy that looked about my age. Uncle's eyes widened with shock and delight. He stood up, holding out his hand. "Lucius!" he said happily. The blonde man's eyes widened in surprise. "Theodeus! And Calista! How wonderful to see someone of _good_ family in this box!" Potter and the red-heads he was with turned around angrily. The blonde boy was staring at Potter with immense hatred in his eyes. Uncle nudged me, reminding me of my manners.

"This is our niece, Cynthia Romanov," Uncle said in introduction. "Cynthia, darling, this is our good friend Lucius Malfoy." I shook Mr. Malfoy's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," I said politely, staring into his handsome face. His ice grey eyes seemed to draw me in. "Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Romanov," he said pleasantly. "And this is my wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco." I shook Mrs. Malfoy's hand as well, marveling at her grace, poise, and beauty, wishing immediately that I had her silky blonde hair and perfect figure. Then I came face to face with Mr. Malfoy's son.

Draco Malfoy took my hand and shook it, staring at me as if I was the most beautiful creature on the planet. I felt the same way about him. He was taller than I by about six inches, and had the flat, wiry muscles of someone I knew played Quidditch often. His blonde hair and grey eyes were the exact image of his father, except Draco's hair was cut short and his eyes, in my opinion, were far more gorgeous. His chiseled face reminded me of the statues of Greek gods I had seen in Rome the previous summer.

We stared at each other in silence, not hearing our adults' conversation, until Uncle nudged me again. "Cynthia, this is the Minister of Magic, Mr. Fudge," he said, pushing me towards a man dressed in smart brown robes and a green bowler hat. I pulled my eyes away from Draco and looked at the Minister, greeting him as I had greeted Mr. Malfoy. As he smiled at me, taking both hands in his and commenting on my beautiful eyes, I suddenly felt a jolt course through my body. _"Ascandris lia hande matcu,"_ I heard in my ear.

Surprised, I looked around. There was no one there but Potter and his companions, the Minister and his companions, the Malfoys and my Uncle and Aunt. Draco was watching me, and gave me a curious look. I shook my head, wondering who had spoken to me. And in Parseltounge. _"I will be with you soon,"_ the voice had said. The Minister of Magic began the game, and there was no time to dwell on it. I found myself seated next to Draco. He gave me a smile and asked who I would be cheering for.

"Whoever that Potter boy isn't," I said, smiling back. Draco laughed. "I go to school with Potter," he said, his tone derisive. "I hate the bloody git. And his Mudblood friend." "Which is the Mudblood?" I asked, curious because I had never seen one. "The ugly one with the face like a chipmunk, and the bush growing out of her head," Draco said, his lip curling with disgust. I looked over at the brown-haired girl. "I've never seen a Mudblood before," I admitted. Draco laughed until his face turned bright red. "Seriously? What school do you go to?" "None. I have tutors," I answered. Draco looked appalled. "So you just hang around at home all day?" I nodded. "Yes. I am in school from eight to four."

Draco shook his head and turned his attention to the game. Since I never had paid much attention to anything involving Quidditch, I asked Draco to tell me what was going on, which he did with enthusiasm. I found myself enjoying his company more than the game itself. When it was over, Ireland winning . . . but the Bulgarian seeker getting the Snitch, Draco and I found ourselves hanging back from our adults, happily conversing about the wonderful flying we had seen. To our surprise, we were interrupted by my Uncle saying vehemently "No. We cannot." Draco and I glanced over to see Mr. Malfoy looking irritated and Uncle and Aunt looking frightened.

"We cannot," Uncle repeated, glancing over at me. "For reasons . . . reasons I cannot explain." "I refuse to discuss this here," Mr. Malfoy said in a disappointed tone. "I had thought . . . but never mind. I hope to see you again, Theodeus, and you too, Calista." He nodded at Uncle and Aunt, as did his wife Mrs. Malfoy, then turned to Draco. "Come, Draco, we must be going." Draco sighed. "I hoped we would spend more time together," he said. "Send me an owl, will you?" I nodded. "I will if you'll write me too." "Draco!" Mr. Malfoy called. Rolling his eyes, Draco leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Until we meet again," he said, grinning.

And then he was gone.

Uncle and Aunt seemed very agitated, even after we returned home. Asking what was bothering them availed nothing. The next morning at breakfast, they kept giving each other worried looks. When a house-elf brought in the Daily Prophet, as was usual, Uncle's mouth pressed into a tight line and Aunt laid down her fork. Uncle grabbed the paper and stared at the front page. He looked at Aunt and nodded. "The stupid, stupid people!" Aunt cried, her face white. "What's going on?" I asked. Uncle and Aunt exchanged a wary glance, then Aunt nodded and Uncle handed me the paper.

A huge photograph of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, formed out of green stars, shone brightly in the sky above a bunch of burning tents and people running away looking terrified. The headline read SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP. I stared at it, breathing heavily. "Does this mean . . . Father is alive?" I asked in a small voice. They exchanged worried glances. "Darling . . . all this was . . . was merely to frighten other wizards and . . . and play a cruel prank on Muggles," Aunt said slowly. I stared down at the picture. "So these people are just playing around?" "Cynthia, you remember Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes," I said, still staring at my Father's mark. "Dearest, the reason we left so quickly was because Lucius asked us to join this . . . this prank," Uncle continued. My eyes shot up. "What do you mean?" I asked angrily. "Cynthia, Lucius is . . . was . . . a Death Eater. A high ranking one." "Theodeus!" Aunt cried sharply. "She has a right to know," Uncle said quietly. "So you're telling me that a high ranking Death Eater, one of my Father's own men, cast Father's mark up into the sky _as a prank_? As if Father was nothing but a joke, or the bogeyman? Something merely used to frighten?" My voice grew higher. "As if Father accomplished nothing else with his life? _Would he have done this if Father was not dead?_"

Uncle and Aunt exchanged terrified glances. I knew why. My eyes were glowing scarlet. I could feel the fire in them. "Cynthia . . ." "No!" I screamed. "How can I just sit back and watch my Father's name grow into nothing but a story told to scare people?" I began to sob and ran from the room, upstairs to my bedroom where Ares and Athena greeted me with happy dog kisses. Petting them both randomly, I sank onto the bed and closed my eyes, trying to forget the rage I was feeling, the infinite sadness . . . when it came again. The voice. _"Eshaskar yesdehn. Ascandris lia hande matcu."_ "Don't cry. I will be with you soon."

I must have fallen asleep because I only remembered the words as if through a dreamy haze for weeks afterward.

To my surprise, soon after the World Cup, Uncle and Aunt told me that a new schedule for my schooling would soon take effect. Beginning that October, I would see Professor Nott for Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes on Monday and Wednesday. Professor Macnair would come for Herbology, Charms, and Potions on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Fridays, Uncle himself would be my teacher. The lessons: Defensive Magic and Dark Arts. I would begin to learn to defend myself, as well as learn Dark spells of various kinds. These new lessons surprised me because, although they allowed me the freedom of reading books about the Dark Arts, Uncle and Aunt tended to act as if they had never had anything to do with them.

I knew it was because they feared my Father still, and the punishments he would have wrought upon them if they were sent to Azkaban, leaving me with no protection, would have been extreme, to say the least. They pretended to act like a normal wizarding family who had taken in their distant relative's daughter because they had no children of their own. Because of their discretion, they had never even been suspected of being a Death Eater. I was later to learn that one of the reasons for this was the fact that my Father cast powerful protective spells over them, spells that would not fade even after his death, simply because they were to be my caretakers if he was gone.

And so it was that my fourteenth year passed . . . with my new study schedule, Athena having puppies, I got a Firebolt 2 . . . things that seem like nothing to me now. For only a few months before my fifteenth birthday, something happened to change my life forever.

That June, before my summer holiday, my tutors had become rather annoying, telling me that when I was fifteen I had to take my O.W.L.'s and that the time to study was now, and so on and so on until I was ready to hit them. Except for Uncle, of course. He told me that I had done extremely well for someone who had never done defensive or Dark magic before. I was able to perform every spell he set me to do . . . but then, as I said before, I had read many books on the subject . . . as well as tried out most of the spells in the woods surrounding our home. So I wasn't surprised when he began teaching me much harder Dark spells and more complicated defensive magic.

I had been reading avidly about the Triwizard Tournament in the Daily Prophet, because it was held at Hogwarts, where Draco went (He never sent me an owl because his father was mad at Uncle for not going along with his prank, and I never sent him one because I was mad at his father.), and also because Harry Potter was one of the contestants. There were only supposed to be three, one from each school: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, but somehow Potter had become the 'second' Hogwarts champion. The other was a Cedric Diggory. The Beauxbatons champion was a gorgeous girl named Fleur Delacour, and the Durmstrang one was no other than Viktor Krum.

I kept hoping Potter would die, but he never did. I went to bed on the night the last task was to be completed, praying for Potter's death and anxious to get the Daily Prophet the next morning to see who had won. The night started as usual. I got ready for bed, brushing my teeth and my hair, washing my face, and getting into bed. As was usual for me, I thought of my Father, trying to recall everything about his countenance I could. As was also usual, I concentrated the most on his eyes. So hard, I could almost see them.

I thought I was dreaming.

I did see them.

In the corner of my room, as if my Father was sitting on my chair by the balcony window.

I sat up. The two red orbs glittered at me. They moved.

The person connected to them stood up and moved into the moonlight. I choked back a scream.

"Cynthia . . ."

"Father!"

I flew out of the bed and into his arms. Arms much thinner than I remembered. I was sobbing, kept saying over and over "Father, oh my Father," babbling the words into his black robes. He held me tightly against his chest, stroking my hair. He said nothing until I had calmed down.

"Cynthia, let me look at you." I stood back from him and turned around, my arms out. "Do you like what you see, Father?" I asked. "You aren't disappointed?" He laughed, high-pitched and without humor. "You are beautiful, my precious." It was then that I took a good look at him. "Father, what happened to your face?"

He smiled. "Nothing but what should have happened years ago, little one." I reached out and touched his skeletal face . . . the protruding cheekbones, the eyelids over slanted red eyes, the two snakelike slits he had instead of a nose. "Father . . ." He drew his hood back to reveal a bald, grey-skinned head. "Do not concern yourself, Cynthia," he said, reaching out and drawing me back into his arms. "Father . . . why did you not return sooner?" I asked after some time had passed.

Sighing loudly, he drew me to the bed and sat, motioning for me to sit beside him. He began to tell me of all that befell him from the moment of his downfall. Patting my arm every so often, as if he was making sure I was still there, my Father related his story with anger and hatred in his tone. I began to cry when hearing of his miserable existence. When he was through, I took his face in my hands.

"Father, why did you not come to me? You know I would have cared for you. Why did you rely on that miserable Wormtail? Don't you . . ." I let out a sob of frustration. "Don't you trust me?" That moment was the first time I have ever seen him look pained. "My precious, forgive me. It was my own pride that kept me away all these years. I could not bear for you to see me in my pitiable state." I leaped up, furious. "And what about me?" I shouted. "Your daughter? Don't you think I needed you? Don't you realize you could have been returned to power much faster if you would have came to me? I . . . I could have been the one to care for you, like you cared for me when I was a baby!"

He stood up, looking angry and humiliated. "I could not come to you, Cynthia. Understand that." "Father . . ." I cried, throwing my arms around him. "Father, I love you so much. Please forgive me." "You are forgiven, my child," he said, stroking my hair. "I understand your pain. Don't you realize that it hurt me deeply to be away from you? The moment I was strong enough, I used my power to watch you, to see how you looked, how you were being cared for. I saw you at the World Cup. I spoke to you. Did you not hear my words?"

_"Ascandris lia hande mactu," _I whispered. He smiled. "And am I not here?" "You are. Finally." I took his hand, marveling at the coldness of his fingers. "Father, I wish I could have been there when you were brought back to your body," I told him. "I wish I could have been the one to give you back your wand." He held me close to him. "I know it. As do I, daughter." He held me for a few moments more, before we were interrupted by the door slamming open. Father shoved me out of the way and raised his wand to repel the Stunning spell that came through the doorway.

"Oh . . ." I heard Uncle's moan of horror. I pulled myself up off the floor and watched as Uncle fell to his knees. "Master, forgive me. I thought . . ." "You are forgiven, Theodeus," Father said coldly. "Your diligence in assuring my daughter's safety is to be rewarded, not punished." "Thank you, My Lord," Uncle said, his voice shaking. "May I ask . . . how it is you have returned to us?" "I think the story will best be told by Cynthia, tomorrow morning when your wife has awoken as well. Send her my greetings and gratitude for raising my daughter to be the woman she is now." He waved a hand. "Now leave us." Uncle bowed himself out and closed the door.

"Daughter," Father began. "I must leave you for tonight." I began to protest, but he put a finger on my lips to silence me. "You know Albus Dumbledore will know of my . . . resurrection. Therefore it is imperative that I locate a safe place for my headquarters, reorganize the Death Eaters . . . so many things, Cynthia. And as much as I want you by my side, I want you to be protected even more." I said nothing, for it was all true. As much as I didn't want his face to be out of my sight, I knew he had to go.

"You will remain with the Romanov's, until you are of age," Father continued. "I will visit you as often as I possibly can. You are always in my thoughts, my precious." He ran his finger along my cheek. "You understand why this must be?" I nodded, holding back tears. "I do. I cannot disappear the same night you appeared. It would be noticed." His red eyes flashed at me. "My intelligent little one. Do as the Romanov's tell you." He scrutinized me for a moment. "They have always been kind? They have never made you feel unwanted?"

"Oh no, Father. They have been wonderful. I love them very much." His eyes narrowed a little. "More than I? I have not been with you all these years." I stared at him in shock, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Father, I have loved you the most as long as I have lived." He drew me to him, stroking my back and arms. "Soon you will be called to be loyal to me as well as love me, little one," he said. "Will you meet the challenge?" "Father, there is nothing I want more to be the one to kill Harry Potter for what he did to you," I said, my tone as cold as his. "I would gladly slit his throat and dance on his dead body!"

He laughed, long and cruelly. "My true, beloved daughter," Father said, amused. "Would you really?" I nodded vehemently. "Before you leave, Father, there is something I would ask." "And what would you ask, daughter?" "Will you rescue Aunt Bella?" I asked softly. His eyes gleamed furiously. "Daughter, your Aunt Bella and those in Azkaban, those who chose imprisonment over denouncing me . . . they will be honored beyond all Death Eaters. They will be rescued . . . and they will have their revenge on those who put them there."

I smiled. "Father, it is almost daylight." He smiled back and put a hand on my cheek. "I must go," he said. "But remember I am always with you, and always have been. Soon, my precious daughter, you will stand at my side as I rule." "Father, remember I love you." "I love you as well. You are the only being in this world I care for," he answered . . . and for once his tone was not cold. "Father!" I cried before he went, tearing a ring from my hand. It was a silver snake fashioned to curl around the finger, with emeralds for eyes.

"Wear this, for me?" I asked, handing it to him. "I had it made to remind me of you." He put the ring on his smallest finger. "I will treasure it. I must go now, Cynthia. Remember, I will always protect you." With one last cold smile, Father Apparated out of the room. I stood there until the sun rose, staring at the spot he had disappeared.

I made a vow that night.

My Father was alive again, and I would punish those who had kept him from me for so many years. I would study hard and gain enough power to become worthy to stand beside him, worthy of his trust and love, worthy to be his daughter.

And I would destroy all who stood in my way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Year of Waiting**

My fifteenth year was the hardest I had ever lived through.

Mostly it was because of the knowledge that my Father was alive, but I was not with him. But a lot of it was my own doing.

The morning after my Father came to me, I went down to breakfast as usual. Uncle and Aunt were sitting at the table, their faces terrified, watching me warily as I entered the Great Hall. I had bathed and put on a fresh set of robes, green to honor my Father. I can only imagine what Uncle and Aunt were thinking as they woke up that morning. Had they done anything, anything at all to anger me during the last fourteen years? Did their home meet the standards the Dark Lord had for the place his daughter would live?

Wryly, I noticed Uncle was in my regular seat, not at the head of the table. I stopped at the end of the ancient table of the house of Romanov and shook my head. "I cannot take your rightful place, Uncle," I said. He and Aunt exchanged wary glances. "But Cynthia . . ." "Uncle, I cannot. Indeed, I will not." I looked from him to my Aunt. "My Father is alive, yes. But he will remain hidden. I am to live with you until I come of age. Nothing is to change." I closed my eyes, focusing my thoughts, trying to decide how to say what needed to be said.

"Uncle Theodeus. Aunt Calista. The two of you have cared for me for the past ten years, treating me like I was your own daughter. In my heart, although the two of you could never replace my Father, I love you as if you were indeed my parents." I paused, looked at each of them. "I have never known anything but love, kindness, gentleness, and warmth from you. You have always given me your approval, your support . . . you have disciplined me when I was at fault and given me rules to keep me from becoming spoiled. Because of you, I have confidence in myself, intelligence, self-esteem."

They looked at each other. Aunt had tears in her eyes. "Darling," she whispered, "I have always loved you as if you were my very own. And I . . ." She looked fearfully at her husband and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I cannot help but be upset your Father has returned." Her eyes grew wide with fear. "Not . . . not that I am not happy for you, Cynthia. I watched you as a little girl, the pain you went through when he never returned! I just . . . am sorry that you aren't only _our _little girl any more."

I smiled. "A part of me will always be your little girl, Aunt. Never forget that." I looked over at Uncle. "If you will return to your seat, Uncle, I can tell you my Father's plans while we eat." He did as I asked, and ordered the house-elves to bring in the food. While we ate, I told them everything my Father had told me. I told them what I had promised myself. Uncle cleared his throat when I had finished and looked at me sternly.

"If that is how you feel, Cynthia, then I suggest a revise in your studies." I smiled at him. "I knew you would help me, Uncle," I said happily. "What do you suggest I do?" He thought for a few minutes. "Well," he said slowly, "I think the best thing for you to do is change your school schedule. The best thing would be for you to practice Dark Arts each day. What do you think?" "I think two hours a day will work," I said. "I don't want you to overdo yourself," Aunt said sharply. "I won't," I promised. "Even if I do plan on practicing all day Friday and the weekend as well."

"You'll kill yourself!" Aunt cried. "It is her decision, Calista," Uncle chided gently. She sighed. "Cynthia, I would also suggest starting Healing magic again as well," he said, turning to me. "It will be a useful branch of magic to know. And I don't mean the basic first aid you already know. I mean real wounds and afflictions." Aunt sniffed. "As long as you make sure you won't need your skills yourself, Cynthia."

I bet you can understand what I meant before when I said I was a big part of making my fifteenth year was my hardest.

I made myself sick within four months. So sick, Uncle and Aunt summoned my Father. They told him I woke at dawn and didn't go to sleep until the night was almost gone. All I did was study and practice the Dark Arts. I woke up to Father sitting beside my bed. He was very angry with me, but chastised me gently. "There will be time enough to learn what you must," he said. He gave orders that I was not to open a book before eight in the morning or after six in the evening. I was to spend at least an hour every day out of doors on my broomstick. I was not to practice Dark Arts unless it was Friday.

Eventually, I got well. Uncle and Aunt kept my Father's rules religiously. I was allowed to read the newspaper and certain magazines during 'no book time', and it was from reading the Daily Prophet that I learned no one believed Harry Potter that my Father had returned. They talked about Potter like he was some kind of standing joke. It was very amusing to me. I laughed about it with Uncle and Aunt during meals. They thought it was wonderful.

One day, in the middle of the year, Aunt burst into my room with a look that I knew meant she had a wonderful surprise for me. Ares and Athena caught her glee and leaped about my room, barking loudly. "What is it Aunt?" I cried expectantly. She tossed me a Daily Prophet. The headline read MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN. I screamed and jumped up to grab Aunt's hands, dancing about the room. My Aunt Bella was free.

She was sent to us soon after, to gain some of her strength back. I was appalled at her condition. Her hair was limp and dull, when it had once been thick and beautiful. Her eyes were sunken, with black rings around them that stayed no matter how much sleep she got. I insisted she stay with me in my room, even giving up my bed to sleep on a cot beside her. Aunt Bella would wake up screaming in the night sometimes, and on those nights I climbed into bed with her, calming her down with gentle words and reassurance. Eventually the nightmares lessened, but never completely went away.

I cared for her as if she was a child, offering her the choicest foods, thinking of ways to tempt her appetite, feeding her and talking to her as I insisted she eat. Aunt Bella grew fatter, her hair grew healthier, her face filled out . . . but the haunted look never left her eyes. I loved talking to her. We spent hours under a yew tree in the garden, talking about things. She was so happy to be free, she said, but she would go to Azkaban again in a heartbeat rather than deny Father. I was proud of her loyalty, as she was. It was her pride, she said, that kept her from dying.

As she got stronger, Aunt Bella took it upon herself to take Uncle's place teaching me Dark Arts. I became glad that Father had ordered I couldn't practice any other day than Friday. Aunt Bella's lessons were much harder than Uncle's. Having learnt everything she knew from Father, her Dark magic was significantly stronger and she knew more of it. Uncle graciously gave up his position as my teacher, although I knew deep inside he cherished the time we had spent together. But I, not having seen Aunt Bella for so long, adored the lessons as I never had with Uncle.

Soon after Aunt Bella and the other Death Eaters were rescued, we learned that Harry Potter had given an interview with a magazine called 'The Quibbler'. In this interview, he told the Wizarding world exactly what had happened the night Father was resurrected.

As angry as I was about Potter's attempts to foil my Father's plans, it was very interesting to me to read about his resurrection detail by detail.

Aunt Bella, however, didn't see it that way. On top of her anger about not being there, Aunt Bella was furious at Potter. For three days straight, all she did was rant about how 'half-breed cockroaches dared defy the Dark Lord' and 'Potty's death will make me happier than anything!' Uncle and Aunt hid in their rooms during her rages, for they were almost as afraid of Bellatrix Lestrange as they were Father. She had, after all, been the one to use the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms until their minds were completely gone.

It was because of Potter's story that my Father came to see me, only the third time he had done so since his return.

Actually, I should not have said Father came to see _me _particularly. He came with sixteen other Death Eaters, to see Aunt Bella and Uncle and Aunt Romanov for a meeting. He wanted me to be there as well, and since he did not like the idea of me traveling anywhere, they came to us.

Several of the Death Eaters gathered in our Great Hall before Father arrived. Most hadn't kept in touch with Uncle and Aunt, and vice versa, so it was a nice little reunion at first. Once they found out I would be at the meeting as well, (remember none of them knew I was my Father's daughter), most of them had something to say about it.

"Why don't you send your niece upstairs? She is not a Death Eater?" "This child is too young to be here." "What if she talks about our plans?" The Death Eaters all stared at me with irritation and a bit of contempt, which I ignored. My Father would tell them who I was in good time. Aunt Bella was a big help. Whenever she heard someone say something negative about me she turned on them in a fury. And I soon learned, every Death Eater there except for two were terrified of her furies.

One was a sallow faced, black haired, black eyed man named Severus Snape.

The other was Lucius Malfoy.

I was standing with Aunt Bella when Mr. Malfoy approached her. "Bella," he said in his drawling voice. "I am glad you are back." She stared at him coolly. "Lucius. How are you?" "Very well," he answered, looking down at me. "As you should be," Aunt Bella said before he could greet me. "Since you didn't go to Azkaban." Mr. Malfoy smiled coldly. "I have a family to care for, Bella, as you know." She smiled back, just as coldly. "How is my sister?" I stared at her in shock. "Narcissa is well," Mr. Malfoy told her, a bit shortly. "She would like to see you."

I had no idea Narcissa Malfoy was Aunt Bella's sister. The thought of her being married to someone who had angered me so . . . well . . . believe me, it was not pleasant.

"I would like to see her too," Aunt Bella said, a glint of sadness in her eyes. "I will as soon as our Master will allow it." There was a sudden silence throughout the room as soon as Aunt Bella was done speaking. The three of us turned to see my Father had Apparated into the room.

I knelt with the rest of the Death Eaters, although I wanted to rush to him and put my arms around him. Aunt Bella patted my knee, knowing how I felt. She took my hand in hers as we rose.

"I brought you all here," Father began, "because of a mission that must be fulfilled. The Prophecy about myself and Harry Potter remains within the Ministry." He glared at several faces. "It seems I was misled about how to recover the Prophecy," . . . here several people cringed . . . "but now it seems I know how the Prophecy must be taken. "I am choosing a number of you to enter the Ministry to recover the Prophecy. Lucius wife Narcissa has given me some valuable information that will help in this endeavor."

Both Mr. Malfoy and Aunt Bella looked pleased. I wasn't paying much attention, just kept clinging to Aunt Bella's hand, looking up at Father willing him to look at me.

Father paused before continuing. "Narcissa, through another, will be able to lure Harry Potter to the Ministry of Magic. The Death Eaters I have chosen will be waiting for him. Once he picks up the Prophecy, take it from him, then bring him to me." He paused again. "I have chosen . . ." He went on to name a number of Death Eaters, including Mr. Malfoy and Aunt Bella. Father paused once more.

"I do not need to tell you again how important this prophecy is. I also need not tell you what will happen if you fail." The room was deathly quiet. "With this warning, I dismiss you all. Cynthia?" I snapped to attention at my name. The Death Eaters glanced from me to each other with confused looks. "Y . . . Yes?" I whispered. "Come with me upstairs." Aunt Bella nudged me forward, as I had suddenly grown shy with so many people staring. I walked through the sea of Death Eaters to stand next to my Father, then he led me away. I could hear the rumble of murmuring as we left.

When we reached my room, I hugged him. He embraced me tightly, then motioned for me to sit. His red eyes bore into me for several minutes before he began to talk.

"Daughter, I have come to a decision regarding your education," he told me. I sat staring at him with my hands clasped in my lap. "Yes?" "You will attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry beginning next year." He watched my expression. I was startled. "May I ask why, Father?" "You may." He stood up and walked over to the window. "Daughter, you know no people your age. You have spent ten years . . . almost eleven . . . in this spot." He waved a hand as I began to protest. "Yes, I know you have traveled the world every summer, but it is not the same."

"Your Aunt Bella has brought it to my attention that you need to be around other children," Father said quietly. "But I will tell you, that is not my only reason for sending you there." I waited. "It won't be long until the Wizarding world knows I have returned," he said. "It cannot be hidden for much longer. I believe you will be safer at Hogwarts." "Can I not be safe with you?" I asked, rather petulantly. He smiled. "You could be. But we have not found a safe headquarters, and even if we had, I would feel better knowing you were out of the world I live in. Until you are older and can handle it, of course."

He came to sit with me. "I need Theodeus and Calista's skills, Cynthia. They are powerful. That is another reason I would like you to go to Hogwarts. I don't want you here when they must perform their duties. I don't want to risk you being taken if they are caught. And . . . Cynthia . . . I _want_ you to go to Hogwarts. I believe . . . you will like it there. As I did." He put an arm around me. "Daughter, will you do this for me?"

It was the first time he had ever _asked_, rather than _told_.

I smiled. "Of course I will, Father." He smiled back. "My obedient one, you will be happy there." "New experiences are broadening," I said, laughing. "But Father, what about my Dark Arts classes?" "You will take Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts," he explained. "You will learn useful things, my precious, don't worry." He kissed my forehead with cold lips. "Daughter, I must leave now. Remember, my precious one, that I love you." "I love you too, Father," I said, and then he was gone.

Uncle and Aunt were happy for me when I told them I was going to Hogwarts. Since it was almost my birthday, (Aunt said almost, but in reality it was three months away), she took me shopping for new clothes. I think she did it because shopping cheered me up, and I was a bit down since Aunt Bella had gone to help Father. And yes, bringing home several trunks of new clothing _did_ cheer me up quite a bit. I had an uneasy feeling that Father wouldn't be pleased to know that a simple thing such as shopping made me happy.

My happiness was short lived, though.

That June, Harry Potter was indeed lured to the Ministry of Magic.

But instead of getting the Prophecy, all the Death Eaters he had sent, except for Aunt Bella, were captured by Albus Dumbledore and his goody-goody I-Hate-The-Dark-Arts group, the Order of the Phoenix. The Prophecy was smashed. Harry Potter and his friends escaped. Father had to go to the Ministry to try and salvage the mess, and was seen by the Minister of Magic and his Aurors.

So now, everyone knows Father is back.

Throughout June, July, and August, I didn't see him. Aunt Bella came on my birthday with the message that he did not want me to see him in his rage. And I can honestly say, I would have been rather frightened to see it as well.

But no matter. I am sixteen years old now, and almost an adult. I must learn to conquer my fears and my emotions.

Especially since I am about to enter a fire which will take Uncle, Aunt, and I to a friend in London. From there, I will be taken to the train station to catch the Hogwarts Express.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: First Impressions **

I hated the dingy Muggle train station the moment I entered it. It smelled, I thought, like Muggles themselves, but I learned later it was the smell of soot, sweat, trash, and dirty bathrooms. I walked along the platform with Uncle and Aunt, the young man hired to push the trolley carrying my luggage right behind us. Aunt was still irritated about the fact that we were only allowed to bring one trunk, which, after buying my school things, wasn't able to fit the vast new wardrobe she had purchased for me inside. I had only brought two school robes, a set of dress robes, and a few other outfits I would use on weekends or visits to Hogsmeade. With a huff, Aunt told me she would send some of my new clothes through the mail.

We stepped through the barriers at Platform 9 ¾ and stopped to stare at the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Students and parents jostled around us, all hurrying to get on the train. For a moment, I felt overwhelmed, and I reached inside my robes to clutch the present my Father had given me for my sixteenth birthday, sent along with Aunt Bella.

It was a heavy gold locket, engraved with the serpentine 'S' that was the mark of Salazar Slytherin, my Father's ancestor. I kept the locket hidden under my robes, as Father had instructed. _This locket belonged to our ancestor, Salazar Slytherin,_ he had written. _The last to wear it was my mother. Cherish it and protect it, as it will protect you. It holds a part of me deep inside its golden luster. Keep it hidden, but wear it at all times. With an enduring love that is yours alone, Happy Birthday from your Father._

The locket gave me strength. I could feel Father's essence radiating from the gold. The locket was doubly precious to me because I suspected it was one of his Horcruxes.

Uncle, Aunt, and I stood in front of the train, surrounded by the other witches and wizards hurrying around us, and I knew we were all thinking the same thing. How different would this year be, for all of us? Uncle cleared his throat and sent the boy inside with my trunk and my eagle owl, Sapphira, with instructions to find an empty carriage and stand guard over it to keep it for me. The moment the boy left, Aunt pulled me into her arms into a tight embrace.

"Write to us as soon as you get there," she instructed. "And if you don't like it . . ." She paused and looked at her husband with a fearful yet determined look. "If you don't like it, I'll tell your Father we shall bring you home." Uncle stared at her, shocked into silence. Then he seemed to draw courage from his wife, and nodded. "Your happiness and safety are most important to us, Cynthia," he agreed. "If you don't like it at Hogwarts, or if you feel your safety is in question, write to us immediately. I will come fetch you home."

I smiled and kissed them both. "I will be all right," I told them. "Don't worry about me. Look who my Father is! Don't you think I have inherited _some kind_ of strength and courage from him?" They smiled back. I pulled them close, the three of us embracing tightly. "And even if my Father was not who he is," I whispered, "I have learned plenty about strength and courage from the two of you."

They held me tightly for several more minutes. When we finally pulled apart, Aunt had tears in her eyes, and even Uncle's eyes were shining. The whistle from the train blew loudly. "You must get on, now," Uncle said. I smiled at them and hurried onto the train, turning around at the door. "I'll write!" I called to them. "I love you both!" With one last wave, I went to find the boy, who was still standing guard at an empty carriage. He hurried away and I was alone.

The train lurched forward, and I sat quietly, fingering my locket and looking out the window. I heard the shouts and laughter coming from behind my closed glass doors and sighed, wondering if I should attempt to make friends or keep to myself. The train had only gone a few miles when I heard a knock. I turned in surprise to see none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind the glass, looking at me with a look of astonishment.

For a moment, I considered ignoring him. I was still angry with his father. Then I realized that the grudge I held against Mr. Malfoy was childish and ridiculous. My Father was already furious with him. And I felt sorry for Draco, since Mr. Malfoy was in Azkaban, one of the Death Eaters captured at the Ministry months before. I smiled politely and beckoned Draco in.

He looked even more handsome than I remembered, yet something was changed in his face. The arrogance, the hauteur, the disdain were still there . . . but there was a harshness, a cold endurance, and a combination of fury and deep grief that hadn't been there before. I saw in his eyes that the removal of his father had left him scarred. I read hours of helpless tears and violent rage in the icy gray depths of his eyes. Hours of hopelessness and fear.

To my surprise, I felt strangely drawn to him. After all, hadn't I gone through the same thing for so many years after my Father disappeared?

"Cynthia?" Draco asked, hovering in the doorway. I smiled at him, this time genuinely. "Draco. How nice to see you again," I said. "Would you like to sit down?" He did so, right across from me. "How have you been?" he asked. "I've been all right," I answered. "I was ill for several weeks last year, but I came though okay, don't you think?" I spread my arms, as if he wanted to see all of me. Draco chuckled. "Yeah, I'd say you came out fine." He sighed and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Draco, I am sorry about . . . about your father," I said slowly. "I can understand how hard it must be." He looked up at me; his brows creased together, his eyes flashing angrily. "How can you possibly . . . oh . . . shit, Cynthia, I'm sorry. I forgot about . . ." I smiled and shook my head. "It's easy to forget I live with an uncle and aunt," I said. "Even I forget, sometimes." Draco leaned back in his chair. "Thank you for what you said about . . . my father. It means a lot."

The compartment doors flew open with a loud bang. On instinct, my hand flew to my wand, drawing it out and aiming it towards the door. A furious looking girl stood there, hands on hips. Her black eyes flashed with rage, her short black hair trembled around her round, plain face violently. "Just what do you think you're doing, Draco?" she shouted. Draco's eyes narrowed, and he stood up slowly. "What are you talking about, Pansy?" he asked tiredly.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about!" she screamed, her voice echoing around the tiny compartment. "What are you doing in _here_, with . . . with _her_, instead of finding me like you said you would?" She glared at me, looking me up and down with fierce animosity. "Do you want to be _her _boyfriend now? You want this . . . this ugly, red-eyed _freak_ as your girlfriend?" She laughed derisively. "Why, her skin is grey, like a corpse!" Draco walked over to her and shoved her out of the compartment, shutting the door in her face.

"I apologize for that," he said through gritted teeth. "Pansy is a very jealous girl. She doesn't mean what she says when she gets enraged like this." He sighed and gave me a tight smile. "Believe me, you're _not_ ugly. I think your eyes are beautiful. As are you." To my surprise, I wasn't angry at Pansy. "I don't need reassurance, Draco. I know I'm pretty . . . although I wouldn't say beautiful. But thank you anyway." I motioned toward the door. "Maybe you should go see your girlfriend now, before she murders someone." Draco rolled his eyes. "She's not going to be my girlfriend very long," he mumbled. "But yes, I need to speak to her. I'll see you around, Cynthia."

I found myself being sorry he was gone.

I took out a textbook and began to read it. In no time at all, we were at Hogwarts.

My first glimpse of Hogwarts was that of a huge, ancient castle glowing under the light of the full moon. The castle seemed to be brimming with old magic. I loved it immediately.

As I walked slowly towards one of the horseless carriages that would take us up to the castle, I caught a glimpse of Harry Potter. He noticed me as well, looking at me as if he knew me but didn't know how. My eyes narrowed. I could feel them glowing red. A look of fear crossed his face, and then he was swept away by the other students. I climbed into a carriage by myself. My eyes were still glowing red, and I'm sure this was what kept any other students from getting in with me.

We arrived at the castle and were hustled into the Great Hall, which was lit by thousands of floating candles and whose ceiling looked just like the night sky. There were four tables, just as Uncle had told me. I hesitated, not knowing where to sit, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was Severus Snape. I had met him briefly at the meeting my Father had held months ago. I was standing with Aunt Bella, and he had come up to give her his congratulations for being out of Azkaban. She had stiffened, staring at him with a furious look which usually cowed most people. But it hadn't fazed him. He had looked at me with a strange, searching look that made me feel as if he knew all my secrets.

"Miss Romanov is it not?" he asked, not mentioning how he had met me. "Yes, sir," I answered. "I'm afraid I don't know where to sit." His lips curled into a mirthless smile. "Let us hope it is at the Slytherin table, Miss Romanov." He motioned towards a torn hat resting on a stool up in the front of the room. "You must be sorted by the Sorting Hat before you can take a seat. Let me speak to Professor Dumbledore, so you can go before the first years begin." I nodded my thanks and followed him up to the teacher's table. Students were staring at me from all around as I passed.

I hesitated a few feet behind Professor Snape as he whispered a few words to Dumbledore. I took a few moments to look at this man who was my Father's greatest enemy. He was old, very old, and had long white hair and a long white beard. His eyes were blue and merry, with a hint of tiredness. He listened to Snape, nodded, and then looked at me for the first time.

Dumbledore's face grew white. His brow furrowed, his chest heaved. I felt cold inside. It lasted only for a moment, and then it was gone. He was looking at me normally again. Snape drew me out of Dumbledore's line of vision as the headmaster stood up.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he began. I didn't listen to his speech, just watched every movement he made, like I was afraid he would turn and curse me. I vaguely felt Snape's eyes on me, scrutinizing me. Then I heard Dumbledore's voice again. "Before we bring in the first years, we have a new student who will be admitted into sixth-year classes." Snape pushed me forward. "This is Miss Cynthia Romanov." The students all stared at me. I stared back at them, squaring my shoulders and raising my chin. Dumbledore waved me over to the stool where the Sorting hat was placed.

I sat down without him asking me to. He put the hat on my head. I heard nothing but silence for several long minutes. Then suddenly . . . _"You are not a Romanov." _I looked around, wondering who was speaking. _"The blood flowing through your veins will be the destruction of this world."_ I realized it was the hat talking . . . and that only I could hear it. _"It is up to you to choose your path, daughter of the Dark Lord. Will you choose to be the vessel of darkness?"_ The hat sighed. _"I see."_ Then out loud so everyone could hear . . . "Slytherin!"

The room was silent. I stood up slowly, pulled the hat from my head. "This way, Miss Romanov," Snape said, leading me towards a table at the far right. The only two people I knew at the table were Draco and the rude, plain girl, Pansy. They are sitting apart from each other. Pansy's eyes are red and swollen. She burst into sobs as Draco beckoned me over to sit with him.

"Glad to see you here," he says as I sit down. I grinned at him. "Did you think I wouldn't be sitting at this table?" I asked. Draco laughed. "Well . . . I thought maybe Hufflepuff . . ." I laughed with him. Across the table and down to our left, Pansy broke into fresh tears. Draco sighed. "I take it you two broke it off?" I asked. Draco nodded. "Yeah. I've put up with her tantrums for two years. I've had enough of it." I laughed at him. "Two years? That must have been hell."

Draco laughed with me. Pansy's swollen eyes narrowed as she glared up the table at me. She began whispering to her friends, who all giggled. I ignored them. "So how do you like it here?" I asked, changing the subject. Draco shrugged. "It's all right. But it would be better if Potter and his Mudblood friend Granger were gone." He made a face. "Her stink really starts to get to you. And come to think of it," Draco continued, "it would be nice if the blood traitor was gone too. He's starting to stink as bad as the Mudblood."

I had heard of blood traitors, the pureblood wizards who had no problem with Mudbloods or Muggles. "Which is it?" I asked curiously. Draco wrinkled his nose. "The red headed one. Remember at the World Cup, Potter was sitting with a whole family of redheads in shabby clothes?" I nodded. "Yeah, I remember," I said. "The whole lot of them are blood traitors," Draco continued spitefully. "Their father's a big Muggle lover. I hear he likes to collect Muggle stuff." I stared over at the Gryffindor table, at the tall, freckled, gangly boy Draco had pointed out, wondering how on earth someone could be interested in Muggle things.

It wasn't long after that before we were sent to bed. I was horrified to find out I would be sharing a room with Pansy and her friends. They whispered to each other as I put on my pajamas, making fun of my skin, my thinness, my small breasts, my eyes . . . anything they could think of. I wanted to tell Pansy her face resembled the face of a platypus I had seen at a zoo once, and that one of her friends smelled like old, unwashed knickers, while the other looked like the before picture of Humbert Irving's Tooth Straightening Potion. The other girl was prettier than I, so there was nothing bad I could say about her other than she was friends with the other three.

I already loved Hogwarts itself, but I could tell I would hate living there. I made the decision to ask Professor Snape, the only teacher I knew, if it would be permissible to have my own room. The Romanov's, or Father, could certainly pay for it, I knew.

I went to sleep hearing their giggles and whispers through the night.

The next morning, I found myself awake before they were. I went and showered, then put on my new school robes . . . Venetian linen, courtesy of Aunt Calista . . . newly embroidered with the Slytherin crest, and went down for breakfast. I had awoken before the meal was served, so I skimmed through some of my textbooks to pass the time. I had eaten and was waiting in front of my first class before the other Slytherin girls came down.

I was sitting in front of my first period Ancient Runes class as Potter's friend, the Mudblood called Hermione Granger, approached the door. She seemed rather surprised to see me sitting beside the door reading the textbook. The class wasn't to begin for another half hour, and I realized Granger had come to the class early to do the same thing I was doing. For a split second, I wished she was a pureblood and in Slytherin so we could be friends. She seemed to be more like me than the horrible girls I had to live with. But friendship was impossible in the circumstances.

The reality of it was that deep down I hated her. She was Muggle-born, yet a witch. She might marry a wizard of blood, having children that were half-breeds, diluting the purity of Wizarding families. And worst of all, she was friends with Harry Potter, who had been the reason my Father was gone from me for so many years.

I hated myself for that moment of longing.

For the rest of the day, I kept to myself. Except during meals, when Draco Malfoy kept me company. I found myself liking him more and more. He was the only one who tried to make me feel welcome.

I liked my teachers as well. And I could tell they liked me. Professor McGonagall, my Transfiguration teacher, complimented me when I Transfigured a rabbit into an ornately carved glass candy dish. I could tell by the looks of the other students that she was not one to give compliments lightly. But the looks of wonderment turned to looks of anger when I was the only one not given homework.

I could tell my favorite class was going to be Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Snape did call on me quite often and seemed rather happy when I answered every question correctly, even if he spoke in a rather curt tone. He was very thorough and knew his subject, which I liked, plus he was a Death Eater, so I was very happy with him. I could tell most of the other students, excepting the Slytherins, did not like him at all. Potter was particularly cheeky to him and I was pleased when the little cockroach got detention.

All in all, my first week at Hogwarts went well, so long as I avoided Pansy and her friends. I could stand the nighttime whispering and giggling at my expense . . . I looked at it as something that would build my character . . . and I would often remind myself that I was the one and only daughter of Lord Voldemort himself, the girls and their torment meant nothing to me as long as I had that.

Only one incident marred the week. I crawled into bed to find someone had put a dissected frog, along with all its guts, in my sheets. I leapt out quickly as the other girls laughed. Pansy was smirking at me in a way that I could tell it had been her who put it there. I felt my eyes burn red with anger, but I quietly used my wand to clean my bed and my skin where the frog guts had touched. I climbed into bed as if nothing had happened, and went to sleep.

The next morning, instead of going to my Ancient Runes class early, I sat inconspicuously in front of the Great Hall, waiting for Pansy to come out. She came out surrounded by the other girls, chattering excitedly. I quietly drew my wand and aimed it at her, making sure no one was watching me. Pansy's feet suddenly got tangled in her robes, and she fell to the floor on her face. Her shoe had gotten caught in the back of her robes, and I made sure the tear it made went much higher than it should have. People stopped and laughed uproariously as they saw Pansy lying on the floor, the back of her robes ripped so far up her back that her ugly white knickers were showing.

She tried to stand, but fell again, this time on her back with her legs spread open and the front of her knickers, black hair poking out from the edges, were showing for all to see. Her face was bright red, tears began to trickled down her face. To my great amusement, Draco chose that time to come out of breakfast. He looked down at her and began to laugh, then he sighed and shook his head. "Bloody hell, Pansy," he said in a mock-angry tone. "You wouldn't get in that position for me, yet you do it for the whole school." He raised an eyebrow.

"But now, I'm glad you didn't," he continued cruelly. "Unless, of course, you planned on getting rid of some of _that_!" Draco pointed at her pubic hair with a disgusted face. Pansy burst into tears and pulled herself up. She caught my eye as she ran up the stairs, and I knew that my revenge wasn't lost on her. She didn't show up for class that day or the next.

The whispering and giggling stopped that very night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4: Lessons in Life**

The weeks went by, and in the absence of continual strife, I found myself enjoying life at Hogwarts. Everything was new and interesting to me. I did not care for the other students, or they for me, and I spent my time either studying, reading, or going for walks on the grounds. The only person my age I liked was Draco.

We did not spend much time together at first. I was too immersed in my classes, and he . . . well . . . honestly I don't know what he was doing but he disappeared for hours at a time. It was not my business to ask what he was doing; therefore I kept my curiosity to myself. I do believe that was one of the things that drew him to me, for I noticed many others . . . Pansy included, even though they were not together . . . bothered him with questions rather often.

I also noticed he acted differently to me than he did to others.

He acted as if school was nothing to him when around others, treated them with a varied degree of contempt depending on their ancestry or intelligence, and never showed anyone any kind of common courtesy. When he was with me, we had interesting conversations about many different things, things like class lessons, what hex/jinx worked better than another, some small fact either he or I found in a book, or even discussing spells he or I were thinking of inventing. Draco was, in fact, very intelligent and retained vast amounts of information. I never asked him why he thought it necessary to act as if he wasn't. I thought it was rather stupid of him not to show up Hermione Granger in class, especially since he hated her so, and it would have made her mad.

Draco never treated me with the slightest bit of scorn. He was always kind and respectful towards me . . . opening doors and pulling out chairs like a well-bred gentleman. I was surprised that he didn't show his good breeding to anyone else . . . in my opinion it was beneath the dignity of a pureblood to act any other way . . . and he was rather coarse mannered to everyone, even those in Slytherin.

One day during the last week before Christmas holidays, I overheard several people talking about me and Draco. I was going to keep on walking until I heard a female voice say "But he only treats her that way because of her uncle and aunt, doesn't he? I mean, she _is_ their only heir, and the Romanov's have tons more gold than the Malfoy's do." My face grew red with shame. "That's true," another girl said. "He's really buttering it up to her too. Pulling out her chair, holding doors open, passing her the best dishes at meals . . . it's beyond ridiculous!" The group around them burst into laughter.

"She's just as bad," a boy said sneeringly. "Staring at him like he's some kind of god." "She looks as if she expects that treatment from everyone," the first girl said. "Acting like she's some kind of queen. Doesn't even speak to anyone! Walks around with her nose in the air, and those weird eyes not looking at anyone, just Draco and her precious books! It's pathetic!" "I don't even see why she's so proud," the boy cut in. "She's nothing but a pureblood orphan. If she even _is _pureblood. I know her aunt and uncle are . . . does anyone know who her parents actually were? And its not as if she's even pretty. That gray skin, those red eyes . . . she looks really freaky."

I couldn't hear another word. I turned and ran away, down the hall into the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and stuffed my robes into my mouth to stifle my sobs. The things they said really hurt me. Not the part about my acting like a queen . . . personally, I didn't care what anyone thought of me, I wasn't at Hogwarts to make friends but to get an education. No . . . the part that stung most cruelly was what they had said about Draco. Could it possibly be true that he only befriended me because of the wealth I would inherit? Did he honestly think he was going to end up marrying me?

I didn't understand why the thought of Draco not liking me for me hurt so badly. I was hurt . . . hurt and ashamed. I, the daughter of Lord Voldemort himself, was crying in a smelly bathroom stall because some insignificant little flobberworms hurt my feelings. The thought made me sob even harder.

I forced myself to be calm and think upon what I had heard in a rational manner. I could not understand why I felt the way I did about Draco, but I could at least try to figure out if he was really doing what they had said he was doing. I tried to recall one instance where Draco might have seemed romantically inclined . . . but could find none. And surely, I didn't stare at him! Definitely not as if he was a god!

I sighed and came out of the stall, splashed water on my face, and went to my next class.

That night, I sat straight up in my bed in the middle of the night. Do I really look freaky? Am I really that ugly? The thought tortured me until I lay back down and forced myself to go back to sleep.

I avoided Draco for the rest of the week. I found that even though I was angry with him, I did miss him very much. He didn't seem to notice that anything was the matter until we were on the Hogwarts Express heading home for the Christmas holidays.

I found a compartment to myself and pulled out my book, _Occlumency and Ligilimency for the Advanced Witch or Wizard_, intending to get several chapters in before we arrived at the station. I had only read a few paragraphs when Draco walked in.

"Hey, Cyn," he said, smiling. "What are you reading?" I stared at him, not wanting to believe what I had heard . . . wanting to believe he truly liked me. But I just couldn't. "If you don't mind," I said coldly, "I would like to be alone." Draco's smile disappeared. "What's the matter?" he asked slowly. "Nothing," I answered. "I just want to read, thank you." "Have I offended you?" he asked, frowning. "I would like to be alone," I repeated. "And . . . I would thank you not to speak to me again."

Draco swallowed. I was horrified to see him stare at me with such pain in his eyes, such confusion. He nodded and left without another word. In that second, I knew I had been wrong. Those people I had heard were wrong.

I ran to the door and looked out, but he was already gone. And I could not bring myself to look for him and apologize.

I had lost him . . . forever. And it was through my own doing.

The thought was devastating.

I went back into my compartment and looked out the window so no one could see my tears.

Several hours later, I came out of my compartment and met Uncle and Aunt at the platform. They were so excited to see me, they argued over who would kiss me first. I admit, their happiness at seeing me really cheered me up. I must have seemed a bit down, though, because Aunt shot me a searching, curious look that I knew meant she would come see what the matter was when I had settled in back at home.

I loved being back at home! The first thing I did . . . not wanting to talk to Aunt just then . . . was to have a long, leisurely fly around the grounds. Then I went up to my room and had a nice, hot bath, and asked for my dinner in my room. I had just finished when Aunt came in.

"Darling, what is the matter?" she asked softly, sitting across from me as I sat at my little table. I sighed. "I . . . I don't understand people, Aunt Calista," I began, and then told her the whole story. She listened intently, and then gave me a brief smile. "This is the reason why your Father wished you to attend Hogwarts, my little one," Aunt said. "You are right; you don't understand people at all. I blame myself . . . and your Uncle Theo, for not sending you to school earlier, or at least selecting suitable playmates for you." She reached out and patted my hand.

"Cynthia, my dear, women . . . especially teenagers . . . can be cruel. They can be at their worst when they are jealous of another girl. You are very pretty, darling . . . you _do_ look unusual, I admit . . . but not at all ugly or freakish! You must learn that whenever anyone . . . girls in particular . . . doesn't like someone, for whatever reason, they will talk about them. And not in kind ways. People are jealous of those who are more beautiful, more intelligent, more confident . . . anything _more_ than they are." Aunt paused and scrutinized me. "Cynthia, do you understand _why_ you are so upset about what happened with Draco Malfoy?" I shook my head. "That's just it, Aunt, I don't understand at all! Why should I care so much about what anyone thinks of me?"

"Because you are only human, my dear," Aunt said soberly. "As august as your bloodline is, you still have feelings, darling. And that is as it should be. Even your Father has feelings. Look how strong his feelings are for you! Do you think he would care about you so much if he did what you are trying to do, and harden his heart against everything?" I was stunned. "I hadn't thought about that," I whispered. She smiled at me. "Now tell me, darling, about young Mr. Malfoy. You mentioned he was your only friend. Why do you like him so?"

I smiled back and went into detail about things Draco and I had talked about, the way he treated me, the way he smiled, looked, thought, and laughed. I went on and on, not noticing the grin on Aunt's face grow bigger and bigger.

When I finally finished, Aunt burst into rare laughter. "It seems to me," she said slyly, "that you feel more for Draco than friendship." Her face sobered as she thought of the consequences of this development. I was shocked. "I don't love him!" I cried. "I love Father, and you and Uncle . . . but certainly not Draco. Well, maybe just as a companion!" She smiled sadly and stood up. "I don't know, Cynthia, exactly how you feel. But what I do know is, if you throw away something that made you happy simply because you feel too proud to apologize . . . then maybe you didn't deserve the happiness in the first place."

With that, she kissed my cheek and left.

I thought about what she said for days afterward. But then I forgot completely about Draco . . . for Father and Aunt Bella were to visit me on Christmas Eve.

They Apparated into our garden, where I was waiting, and I ran into Father's arms and kissed him repeatedly. He held me tightly for a few moments, and then held me at arm's length to look me over. "I see you have grown, daughter," he said with a hint of a smile. "You look beautiful." With those words, what I had heard at Hogwarts ceased to bother me. "Thank you, Father," I said, hugging him again, and then turned my attention to Aunt Bella.

"Cynthia, I've missed you," Aunt Bella told me smilingly. I hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. "You are looking healthier," I said, bringing her smile into a full grin. "Yes," she said, "and I feel myself at long last." I smiled at this and led them into the Great Hall. After Uncle and Aunt greeted them, we went in for dinner. Father, as usual, ate sparingly, but the rest of us ate like gluttons. The house-elves had been pressed by Aunt to make a truly glorious Christmas dinner. Afterward, we sat in the parlor in front of a warm fire . . . me at Father's knee while everyone else sat in comfortable green armchairs.

Father questioned me about Hogwarts, and I answered as truthfully as possible without revealing the incident where I had hid in the bathroom. He actually laughed when I told him what I had done to Pansy, and told me he wished he could have seen her face. The Parkinson's, he told me, were the sort of family who didn't want to actually _join_ the Death Eaters, but who wanted to share in their triumphs as if they had fought themselves. "Stay away from people like that, Cynthia," he ordered sternly. "In fact, make friends with only those who are from Death Eater families. Families like the Avery's, the Nott's, the Crabbe's, the Goyle's, the Zabini's, the Macnair's, and the Malfoy's."

I smiled at the last name and something in my look made Aunt Bella glance searchingly at me. I noticed her look and suddenly it came to me.

"Father," I said, "would you mind very much if I had Draco Malfoy over for the last days of the holiday?" He stared down at me for a few moments, and I could tell he was thinking hard. Aunt Bella and Aunt Calista glanced at each other, and I saw them exchange a knowing look. Aunt Calista even gave Aunt Bella a small nod, raising her eyebrows as she did so as if she was answering an unasked question.

"Why do you want him to come visit you, Cynthia?" Father asked me, a strange look on his face. "Because he is my friend, Father, and I want to get to know him better," I replied, wondering what the look meant. I thought maybe it was because Draco was Lucius' son, and Father was extremely displeased with Lucius. Father looked down at me with the look still on his face, now seeming to be arguing with himself in his thoughts. "Please, Father?" I asked, pouting slightly.

He sighed. "If it will please you, Cynthia, then he may come." I smiled and hugged him. "Thank you, Father," I said happily. "But . . ." Father began, and then looked over at Aunt and Uncle. "I would like to speak with Cynthia alone," he said. They got up and left immediately, as did Aunt Bella.

Father got up and stood before the fire, a strict look on his face.

"Cynthia, I want to tell you about Draco." I sat up straighter, wondering what he could possibly say. "Cynthia, as you know, Draco's father committed a great crime against me by not returning with the Prophecy, and getting some of my best Death Eaters captured." I nodded. "I know, Father, but . . ." He held up a hand, silencing me. "I have done something . . . to punish Lucius . . . that involves Draco." My brow furrowed in confusion, but I waited for him to continue. "My daughter, I have made Draco a Death Eater and given him the task of killing Dumbledore."

I gaped at him. "You . . . what?" "You heard what I said," he continued, fingering the ring I had given him. "Draco is a Death Eater. Because of all his family has done for my cause, Cynthia . . . excluding Lucius' stupidity, of course . . . I have no problem with you being Draco's friend. However, Cynthia, I order you to stay out of the task I have given him. You are not to help or assist him in any way. Is this clear, daughter?" I nodded, still dumbfounded by what he said. "Does . . . Aunt Bella know?" I asked. "Yes," he answered. "But I have not yet informed the Romanov's." I nodded. "All right, Father," I said. "I promise you I will not help Draco. Am I allowed to let him know that I know?"

Father shook his head. "No. He is under orders not to tell a soul. I wish to see if he will break those orders." "And if he tells me?" I asked timidly. Father looked at me coldly. "Then he will be punished. And that is the end of our discussion."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5: Draco**

Within two days of my request, Draco was at our door, escorted by his mother, Narcissa. Since it was Aunt Calista who had written Draco's mother, asking her if Draco wouldn't like to come visit their home for the remainder of the holidays, at the end of which Uncle and Aunt would take both of us to the King's Cross Station, Draco had no idea his visit was my idea.

Uncle, Aunt, and I were sitting in the parlor when the house-elf brought Draco and Mrs. Malfoy in. Mrs. Malfoy looked much thinner and more haggard than the last time I had seen her, and kept glancing at Draco with a worried expression. I realized that she knew of her son's mission. Other than that, Mrs. Malfoy looked rather pleased that her son had been invited to stay with such a high-status pureblood family such as the Romanov's, and she looked at me with an expression I knew meant she hoped her son and I would marry.

Draco, on the other hand, looked embarrassed. I couldn't blame him, however, but myself. I knew he thought I was still angry with him. After greeting each other pleasantly, Aunt told me to take Draco up to show him his room. I stood up, my new burgundy silk robes falling gracefully to my ankles, and nodded to Draco. He followed me up the stairs in silence, and went into the bedroom I showed him without a murmur. I think he expected me to leave, but I followed him in and closed the door.

"Draco," I began, having rehearsed what I was going to say many times (as well as being coached by Aunt), "I wanted to apologize for what I said to you on the Hogwarts Express." Draco turned to look at me, an odd expression in his eyes. "I thought you made yourself perfectly clear," he said quietly, his tone slightly cold. "Draco, I was very stupid," I continued. "I . . . I heard some things . . ." I broke off, embarrassed of reliving my hurt. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, still coldly.

Looking down at my feet, I related what I had heard to Draco. When I finished, I kept my eyes on the floor, waiting for his response. To my surprise, I felt his hands on my shoulders. I looked up to find him staring down at me with a heated expression. "How could you be so stupid," he said gently, "to believe something like that?"

I don't know what came over me. It was the strangest feeling . . . like being lost or in a dream . . . but the feeling came from staring in his eyes. I hadn't seen them close up; they were dark grey with flecks of light grey and ice blue . . . like orbs carved from rocks that grew only in the coldest climates.

Then I knew. I knew what Aunt had tried to tell me was true.

I loved him. I loved Draco.

Lost in his eyes, I knew he loved me too.

He leaned down and I froze, expecting what was coming but not knowing how to respond.

His lips were inches from mine.

Someone knocked on the door, shattering the moment into a million pieces.

A house-elf opened the door slowly, staring at us fearfully. "I is sorry, sir and miss," it squeaked. "But the master and mistress and lady Malfoy wish you downstairs." Draco and I turned and followed the house-elf as if the moment before had never happened.

We went downstairs to find all that Aunt, Uncle, and Mrs. Malfoy wanted was Draco to say goodbye to his mother. He did, his mother tearfully, Draco not tearfully at all, and then she was gone.

For some reason, Draco and I never again mentioned our moment in the bedroom for the rest of the holidays. He never tried to kiss me again, nor I him. Instead, we spent our time sitting together reading books, then discussing what we had read while taking long walks around our grounds. We mostly read informational books, like on poisons and antidotes, or Transfiguration, or things like that. We also took long flights on our brooms, sometimes even playing Quidditch . . . which I was horrible at. Usually after ten minutes, Draco was laughing at me so hard, I quit. Then I would conjure up a pail of small balls, and cause them to fly in the air for Draco to catch.

I don't know for sure when it happened, but sometime during those few days, Draco and I ceased to be friends and became more. We never even kissed, let alone snogged, but we would find ourselves holding hands as we walked back up to the manor, or Draco's arm would be around my shoulders as we read, or I would lean into him as we stood outside watching the sunset. I would turn to see Draco's eyes on me, a smile on his face, or I would catch myself staring at things like the different colors of white blonde in his hair or the shape of his muscles under his robes as he reached for things up high.

It was a beautiful feeling, and I reveled in my new happiness.

There was only one thing that marred it.

I noticed that Aunt and Uncle glanced at each other often when Draco and I were together. It was a pitying, worried look they exchanged, and I didn't like it.

The night before we were to return to Hogwarts, Aunt came into my room, fussing about my trunk as she had done before, but this time her face was set in a determined, I'm-Going-To-Have-A-Talk-With-You look.

I had a feeling I was about to find out what she thought of Draco and I.

Aunt sat on my bed. I was already under the covers. "Darling, how I miss you when you're gone," she said with a sigh. "I miss you as well, Aunt," I said warily. She began picking at the snake embroidery on my coverlet. "I think you need new covers soon, darling," she said, "These are getting worn." "Yes, I think so too," I said quietly. She was silent for a long moment.

"Cynthia, are you and Draco . . . dating?" she asked finally. "I think so, Aunt, but I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. Aunt looked at me a long while, her face blank. "Cynthia, your Father told me . . . about Draco. Do you think . . . it's wise . . . to date someone whose father your Father is so angry with?" I stared at her, shocked. I had never thought that Father might not approve of my actions. "Why would Father care?" I asked. "It's not as if Draco and I are planning to marry! I'm not sure if we're even dating! All I know is . . . that . . . I love him, Aunt. And he loves me."

Aunt blinked back tears. "You love him?" she asked. I nodded. "Like you said I did. You weren't upset about it before!" She sighed. "I didn't know . . . your Father was still so _angry_ with Lucius before. And . . . when I said you loved him, Cynthia, I was talking to you like a mother to a daughter. I forgot completely that you were your Father's daughter. Cynthia, you must know that whomever you decide to be with, your Father must approve. You know that, don't you?"

I wanted to cry. Could what she said be true? Would Father forbid me to date Draco? Even as much as I loved him? I blinked back tears, remembering what Father had told me when I asked what he would do if Draco told me about his mission. _"Then he will be punished."_ I stared at Aunt in horror. "Aunt, if Father . . . if he knew how I felt about Draco . . . do you think he would . . . harm him? If Draco is unable to fulfill his duty . . . will Father punish him if he knows I love him?"

Aunt looked at me, pity in her eyes. "I think, Cynthia, that it would be best for all of us if you and I keep your feelings for Draco to ourselves. Considering the circumstances, I do believe your Father would be quite enraged if he knew." She took a deep breath. "Cynthia, I follow your Father with all my heart. He is my Master, and I have been with him since the beginning." She put her hand on mine. "But you, Cynthia, are the child of my heart. And because of this . . . my loyalty is first with you."

I went into her arms and she held me tightly to her. "Cynthia, my darling precious child, do not disobey your Father and help Draco. It will be disastrous for both you and him. Let Draco do his job. If he succeeds, then I think your Father will be more receptive of a relationship between you. If he fails . . . well . . . we can cross that bridge when we come to it. And while at Hogwarts, Cynthia, be careful of who sees you and Draco together. Your Father has his spies there . . . and you don't want him knowing about you and Draco until the time is right. You certainly don't want him learning from someone else."

I thought about this, and realized her words were sound.

"Then I will do as you say, Aunt," I said quietly. "That's my wise child," she said approvingly, obviously relieved. "Now go to sleep, so you can be fresh for tomorrow." She gave me a sly grin. "You don't want to look haggard for your man, do you?"

The next morning we left in a rush to catch the Hogwarts Express.

Draco and I said goodbye to Uncle and Aunt and found ourselves an empty compartment, both of us happy to spend a little more time together in privacy. We sat together, with his arm around me and my head on his shoulder, for a few minutes before Draco gave me a nudge and said that he wanted to talk with me.

"What is it?" I asked, a little scared at his expression. "Cynthia, what do you consider our relationship to be?" Draco asked. I thought for a moment. "I . . . I feel like . . . we are dating," I said carefully. He nodded. "I wanted to make sure you felt the same, Cynthia. I'd like to believe you're my girlfriend." I smiled. "I'd like to think that too." He smiled back. "There is something I wanted to talk to you about," he said solemnly. My eyes widened, hoping to Merlin he wasn't going to tell me what he had to do.

"Cynthia, I think I love you," Draco said clearly. "And I _do_ want us to be a couple. I really do. But . . . I think it might be best if . . . we kept that information to ourselves at school." I was startled, for I had been wondering how to bring that up to him. "It's not that I don't want to let everyone know we're an item, Cynthia, it's just that . . . there are certain people I don't want knowing. There are people that might . . . harm you because you are with me."

I watched him carefully, surprised. I knew just who he was talking about. He believed my Father would harm me if he found out we were together, to punish Draco. For a moment, I wanted to tell Draco this wasn't the case . . . but I knew it was easier for him to keep believing this story. Indeed, it was the perfect ruse. I felt bad for letting him believe it . . . but what else could I do?

I was also very flattered that he sought to protect me.

He was watching me, clearly waiting for an answer.

"I understand," I said, smiling gently. "When we're around others, we'll act as we did before. As friends." He smiled back. "Yes, but alone . . ." With that, he drew me to him.

He tilted my head up, and before I knew it his lips were on mine.

I marveled at the new sensations, this mouth on mouth, so gentle, yet so firm. Draco's lips were soft and passionate, his tongue was sweet and luscious . . . and . . . things I can't describe, that I wouldn't want to describe . . . things I want to keep to myself selfishly, so they stay mine forever.

When he finally pulled away, I couldn't stand it. I drew him back to me for more. There was no one around. No one to tell on us. There was just me . . . and Draco . . . and . . .

And we were back at Hogwarts.

As we got off the train, stepped into a waiting carriage, I could smell the fragrance of his hands all over me, the fragrance of Draco . . . pine and musk and the smell of snow. He helped me into the carriage, gave me a sly grin that made my insides feel like fire.

A thought came to me.

How could we possibly go through the rest of the year pretending we were just friends?


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6: Exquisite Torture**

I was sitting in the library only a few weeks after we had returned to Hogwarts, looking up the best type of fertilizer to feed to a Biting Cabbage. Draco sat across from me, trying to scrape together an essay on the properties of dragon's blood for our Potions teacher, Professor Slughorn. It had been a trying few weeks, but I thought Draco and I had handled it well. We heard no rumors about us . . . but then again, no one really talked to us except for Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's . . . for want of a better word . . . friends.

We acted like good friends and nothing else, making sure we did not even sit too close together. But we did remain by each other's side as much as possible.

The only classes we did not have together were Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. We had Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology at the same time. Draco had four free times a week, whereas I only had two.

He seemed very happy that I did not ask him where he went during his free periods. Of course, I already knew he was working out a way to kill Dumbledore, but I could not say so. I was very worried about him, however, because he began to look ill . . . his pale skin taking on a grayish cast similar to mine and black circles appeared under his eyes.

Father hadn't told me I couldn't make Draco feel better, so I took the time to prepare Pepperup Potions and Potions to Enhance Energy for him to take. I also made sure he ate well. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite. I loved the way he looked at me as I fussed about him; his eyes were so full of appreciation and love.

We were happy . . . as much as we could be in the circumstances. I felt as if we were in this strange exquisite torture.

I loved him. It was a new, delightful feeling that filled me at all times. Love is an intensity, a pleasure, and an ecstasy that is like no other. Love that can't be shown, love with no physical relationship whatsoever . . . it is torture. It is literally painful.

Thank Merlin I had schoolwork to distract me. I made sure to work as hard as I could at my classes so I could get the best possible grades.

There was something I noticed, though, as the months wore on.

I began to notice that two people were watching me. One scared me. The other did not.

I found that Dumbledore had his eyes on me constantly when he showed up for meals. I couldn't place the look in his eyes. It was a mixture of dread, horror, knowledge . . . I don't know. I can't describe it.

I was frightened. But then I felt rather stupid.

How could he know who I was? I knew the Sorting Hat could not speak of what it said to students when it was on their head to anyone.

The other person who watched me, and I will say this was most annoying because he was always around, was Professor Snape.

He watched me as if I were a vase on a ledge that was about to tip over. I know that sounds really dumb but that's what I felt like. At first I wondered if Father had told him who I was, but then I shook off the notion. My safety lay in the fact that only three others knew. I highly doubted Father would place me in such danger, although there was the slight chance that he had given Snape orders to protect me, since he was the only other Death Eater at the castle besides Draco. And Father would not have given the task of protecting me to a sixteen year old.

And so the weeks passed, with me wondering but with no answers to my questions.

Then Draco and I made a mistake.

We were doing homework in our common room. It was very late, and everyone else had gone to bed. Draco sat up straight as he yawned, his arms over his head. "I think I'm going to bed," he said tiredly. I smiled at him. "Me too," I told him, feeling rather tired myself. We picked up our things and started towards the door that led to the dormitories.

I don't remember exactly what happened. I think I dropped something and almost tripped over it. Draco grabbed me. We laughed . . . and then looked in each other's eyes.

His head leaned down to mine and I could feel the delicious ecstasy of his lips against my own. His tongue entered my mouth, and I dropped everything I was carrying to wrap my arms around his neck.

I remember moaning as his lips dropped to my neck. Tingles were shooting through my blood, touching me in places I didn't know could feel so good.

There was a noise. We turned to see a flash of black robes and hair.

White skin, livid eyes set in an ugly face.

A snarl.

I screamed, Draco shouted.

I heard the words _"Avada Kedavra!"_ and then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Sorry the chapters are a little short, I'm trying to take some advice given to me by my very first reviewer on this story. They will soon start getting a little bigger, though. Anyway, thanks so much to all of you who have been reading and reviewing! I'm so glad so many of you are reading and liking this story. I hope you are having as much fun reading it as I am writing it! Thanks again, and keep reviewing! (later on when the story is finished, I might redo the story, so if you don't like a certain chapter, please let me know!)_

**Part 7: Shattered**

I suppose I must have woken up several times before actually coming back to reality.

I remember Draco's face hovering above mine. He was crying. He was calling to me but I couldn't hear him.

I remember other people's faces, blurry and upset. Their mouths were moving.

I saw Aunt and Uncle, their faces white, tears flowing down their cheeks from wide, frightened eyes.

All these were short glimpses, like scenes from a life I had left behind.

I opened my eyes once more.

I was in a strange bed, in a strange room. I heard voices of many people. I sat up.

"Cynthia!" someone shrieked, and I saw Aunt's raven hair, mussed as I had never seen it, and I was in her arms.

"Aunt Calista?" I asked. She held me at arms length, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes. Her face was gaunt and thin, her cheeks hollow. "What . . . what happened?" I asked groggily. "Where am I?" Aunt couldn't hear me. She was screaming something. Suddenly two others ran into the room I was in, dressed in the lime-green robes of Healers. One felt my pulse, while the other pulled out his wand to do a Check Spell.

"She seems to be fine now, just weak," the Healer with the wand out said with relief. "Oh thank Merlin!" Aunt cried, bursting into sobs and burying her face in my shoulder. "We will leave you alone," the other Healer said, and the two left hurriedly. "Aunt, _what's going on?_" I asked angrily. _"Why am I in St. Mungo's?"_

Aunt lifted her head and wiped her eyes. "Oh darling, we thought you were going to die!" she cried. "Theodeus has been beside himself, and your Father . . . oh . . . I don't even want to think about your Father right now!" "What happened?" I asked again, growing impatient. Aunt's normally pale face grew scarlet with rage. "Cynthia," she said, trying to force her voice to be calm. "You and . . . and Draco . . . were kissing in the Slytherin common room. His old girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson saw you and grew enraged . . . and she tried to kill you. With the Avada Kedavra."

I stared at her, speechless. _"She tried to kill me?" _I cried when I could get my voice back. Aunt nodded slowly. "Yes. Draco told us what happened. He said it all happened so suddenly, all he could do was Stun Parkinson and try to wake you up. He thought you were dead. The noise brought the other Slytherins down, and the Goyle boy went for Severus. You were sent to St. Mungo's immediately." I kept staring at her wide-eyed. "So . . . why am I not dead?" I asked tentatively.

Aunt took a deep, shuddering breath before replying. "The Healers believe that Parkinson's magic was not strong enough to do more than . . . than put you in a coma." "In a _coma_?" I managed to ask. "For . . . for how long?" Aunt's face fell, and she laid a comforting hand on mine. "Cynthia, my darling child, you have been unconscious for four months."

Four months.

Four months I had missed out of my life.

I shouldn't complain, though. I am still alive . . . and I have been unconscious for years before.

But I still couldn't believe it.

Aunt watched me with a sad expression. "You should know, Cynthia, that your story was in the Daily Prophet," she said quietly. "Everything about what happened was brought up. Parkinson's trial . . . well . . . she was sent to Azkaban. But the worst . . ." Her eyes closed for a moment and then she looked straight at me. "Cynthia, your Father knows of your relationship with Draco. And he is furious."

I refused to think about all this. For the next week, I stayed in St. Mungo's, until the Healers told Aunt I could go home. It was already the middle of June.

Now I was back at the manor, in my own room. I had hardly been home for ten minutes when my door burst open and my Father strode in.

"Cynthia, you are all right?" he asked, taking me in his arms. "Yes, Father," I whispered, glad to feel his cold arms around me. "Don't worry about the Parkinson girl," Father said with quiet rage. "She will be dealt with. I have ordered her family killed for good measure." I said nothing, but clung to him. "Father . . ." I whispered. "I am sorry . . . so sorry for worrying everyone." I felt him stiffen. He stood up and began pacing, his red eyes livid with fury.

"I know of your . . . relationship . . . with Draco," Father said coldly. He turned to me abruptly, his robes billowing about him like a storm cloud. "And it ends. Now." I stared at him in horror. "What?" was all I could manage to say. "You heard me, Cynthia. It is over. You will not see Draco again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" I stared at him, appalled. Then I grew angry.

Not ever see Draco again, when I had been so happy with him?

Never feel his lips touch mine again?

I think not!

I narrowed my eyes. "No, Father. I _will_ see Draco again. I love him, Father. Why aren't you happy for me?" He glared at me, taken aback at my disobedience, but quickly recovered. "Am I hearing these words from my own daughter?" he asked, his tone deathly cold. "Yes," I said, standing up on my weakened legs. "You are. I love him! I am happy when we are together! I love him more than anyone in this world!" Through the red, furious eyes I caught a glimpse of pain. "Except for you, Father," I amended. "I love you the most . . . you are my Father . . . but I love Draco too. Please, don't prohibit me from seeing him?"

"He is beneath you," Father said. "As are all wizards. In you runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin! You and I are the last in this world to carry the bloodline! Are you to destroy it by mating with one who will dilute it!" I was furious. "Father," I said coldly, "as you well remember, we are pure only through your mother. Do you say one who is a full pureblood will weaken our line? _Your father was a Muggle!_"

He slapped me so hard across the face I tasted blood as I fell to the floor.

I touched my lip. It was streaming blood.

Father stared down at me in a mixture of fury and horror at what he had done.

"Cynthia," he said quietly, "I ask your forgiveness for . . . for striking you. I hope to never hear you speak this way of me or your ancestors ever again." He looked as if he couldn't decide whether to leave or help me up.

I wanted him to pick me up. He had never, ever struck me before.

I wanted him to pick me up.

But he turned away and went to the door.

"If you see Draco again, Cynthia, I will kill him. You will not be returning to Hogwarts."

Then he was gone, leaving me shattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8: Existence**

I was back where I had started from. Yet home didn't seem like home anymore. It was no longer a place of love and refuge, but of longing and futility.

Muggles believe in a place called Hell, a horrible torturous place one goes after death if one has been evil.

I've always know Muggles were stupid. People live in Hell every day on Earth.

As I was during those dark months.

I was given back my tutors. I immersed myself in my lessons, trying to forget Draco. It was a stupid idea. We had done our work together at Hogwarts. Doing them alone was just a reminder of him. When I found an interesting idea, something I wanted to discuss, he was not there to talk to me about it.

It didn't help that Father ordered Uncle and Aunt to find me a 'companion'. Someone to make sure I would not try and run away, someone to spy on me and make sure I was not contacting Draco.

She was Lavinia Malfoy, Draco's father's sister. I knew Father sent her as a form of torture. To remind me of Draco, but to keep me away from him. Since her brother's incarceration, she had been rather vocal in her 'segregation' from his 'useless' family.

It was she who brought me the news that Dumbledore was dead.

I was sitting in the parlor, reading, when she came in all puffed up with haughty amusement.

"Dearest Cynthia, I have news!" Lavinia said in her horrible singsong voice. I looked up, but didn't answer. I hardly ever deigned to speak to her, only doing it if I absolutely had to. She smiled at me with the glint all mean people have in their eyes when they are about to inflict some kind of cruelty.

"Albus Dumbledore is dead," she said, smirking. I stared at her and jumped up, my book falling to the floor. "Draco succeeded?" I whispered. She sniffed. "Indeed not. My pathetic loser of a nephew, kill Dumbledore?" Her laugh rang out, high and cruel. "It was Severus Snape who killed him, Cynthia dearest! Little Draco couldn't do it! He was _twoo scawed_." More laughter followed her pathetic little baby voice. My eyes narrowed, and I could feel the red rage flashing in my pupils. Lavinia's laughter faltered as she watched my fists clench and unclench.

I could tell she was frightened.

"I might not be able to see Draco, _Miss Malfoy_, but that hasn't changed my feelings towards him. Henceforth, you will _never_ speak of him like that again, unless you want to find yourself in a very painful position," I said quietly. I could feel my eyes glow blood red.

She turned and ran out of the room.

We received her letter of resignation the next day.

Father was amused, but not pleased. However, he did not assign me another companion.

I found out from Aunt that Draco had been taken to Father. Because he had failed to obey a direct order, Father punished him.

I knew his punishment was made all the more horrible because of me.

Although Aunt refused to tell me what had happened to Draco at first, I wore her down eventually.

She told me that Draco had been whipped, a form of Muggle torture Father used when he wished to humiliate his victim as well as cause him pain. Then he had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse until he was a shivering, cowering body at Father's feet.

Only the intervention of Severus Snape prevented more torture. Father granted this intercession only because he was so happy with Snape for killing Dumbledore.

Draco was not allowed to be sent to his worried mother. He was sent out into the forests somewhere in England, to help prepare the werewolves for war. It was a humiliating punishment for any Death Eater to be sent to work with half-breeds. It was also dangerous, for you could be killed or bitten at any time.

I spent the rest of the week in my bed weeping like a baby.

Yet I could still not bring myself to hate my Father. I still loved him as much as ever, still wanted to be by his side fighting for him. And through all this, I still loved Draco, and hoped against hope that he still loved me as well.

Eventually, I began my studies again, and decided to take my N.E.W.T.'s a year early. Uncle took me to the Ministry of Magic to be tested, as he had done with my O.W.L.'s. I passed them all as I had my O.W.L.'s. All Outstanding grades. Uncle and Aunt were very proud.

Father sent a message saying that although he thought I knew the N.E.W.T. scores would have no place in his new society, he was proud as well.

A week later, he Apparated into our garden.

Uncle, Aunt, and I were at dinner. A house-elf came scurrying into the room, looking absolutely petrified. "He . . . he is here, sir and misses!" it squeaked before passing out. We turned to look at the door as Father stepped into the room.

Uncle and Aunt dropped to the floor. As I was still angry, I continued to eat as if no one had come at all. But Father was too agitated to notice.

"Pack your things, Cynthia," he ordered. "As of now, you will be living with me." I dropped my soup spoon. Uncle and Aunt stood up shakily, terrified. "The moment we have been waiting for has arrived," Father said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "The war has begun."


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9: The Truth . . .**

I have been living with my Father for six weeks now.

It is what I have always wanted. If it were not for the memories of Draco, it would be perfect.

At the moment, headquarters is a derelict old manor on the outskirts of the Northumberland Forest. It is pretty small, only about twenty rooms and no Great Hall, but it suits our purposes. I am not allowed to go out unless Father or Aunt Bella is with me.

And no, I do not talk to Aunt Bella about Draco. Father has forbidden it.

For the most part, I spend my time creating maps of different sites for Father. I have also been taking Dark Arts lessons from him, but the stronger ones . . . the ones that would change my appearance . . . he will not allow me to learn. I do believe he has a slight fear that if I knew all that he knew, the power would take over my soul as it has his own . . . and power creates ambition. He thinks I am the only one who could possibly gain powers like his, and the thirst for more would cause me to destroy him so I could be the one with it all.

Who knows? Maybe he's right.

But no. I love my Father more than anything, even Draco. I would never harm my Father.

At first, the Death Eaters treated me with contempt. My Father soon put a stop to that. He still has not told them . . . but I don't mind at all. Let them think I have some kind of special powers or something, and that is why 'the Dark Lord favors her so'. Ha.

Anyway, I have been working hard, and as making maps is something that needs to be done, and I am not allowed to fight, I have been given that job. It's not glamorous, but then again, neither is what is happening in England amongst the magical folk.

We are in the middle of open warfare. The Ministry still tries to conceal the existence of our kind to Muggles, but that is getting harder and harder in the circumstances. Diagon Alley has been completely destroyed. Hogwarts has been abandoned. No one comes out of their homes unless absolutely necessary.

There have been several skirmishes between the Death Eaters and the Ministry, as well as between Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, who works as a rebel group apart from the Minister of Magic. The skirmishes are like full on battles in some ways, there are always buildings being destroyed and people being killed. The Order has lost many members, as has the Ministry and also our side.

The new Minister is a woman named Amelia Sandstone, for Rufus Scrimgoeur was captured. He is in our dungeons as we speak, but he is believed dead. Madam Sandstone has allowed the uses of Unforgivable Curses on Death Eaters during battles, which has caused most of our losses. Aunt Bella has told me that the other side is losing because they try to capture instead of kill or maim. She was laughing as she told me how surprised the Ministry and the Order were when the Death Eaters began using curses unheard of by anyone else.

Curses Father and Aunt Bella, along with Severus Snape, have invented themselves.

Curses that make your blood boil inside your veins, cooking you from the inside in a very painful three minutes. Curses that rip off one's skin in a matter of seconds, leaving behind a mass of muscle, tissues, and organs. Curses that . . . well . . . you get the idea.

I have seen Severus Snape several times during these past six weeks. He stares at me with the same odd expression he gave me at Hogwarts. It irritates me that he is treated basically like a prince by the other Death Eaters, who bow and greet him respectfully when he passes by. They do that for Aunt Bella as well. She, Snape, and my Father are the heads of our operation. It is like Father is the leader and they are his seconds in command.

It irritates me that Snape is given more respect than I am. But I must learn to live with it until Father decides it is safe for my identity to be known.

One night, Father called me into his study to help him look for the best places to post Death Eaters during the next raid. We were studying a map of a Ministry sanctuary in Derbyshire, when suddenly Father was called away. Wormtail, my father's personal servant who had been given to Snape; and another Death Eater were having an argument that was escalating into a duel.

Rolling my eyes, (I loathed Wormtail and his prissy I-Was-With-Our-Lord-At-His-Resurrection attitude), I continued to study the map. I placed little black dots where I thought some Death Eaters should be, and searched the map for more places, but I saw none. I leaned back in my chair, rolling my aching shoulders, when a shiny yellow light in an open drawer caught my eye.

I didn't think. I just went to the drawer and opened it. Inside, there was a small, glowing yellow ball. It was beautiful. I couldn't help it. I reached in and touched it. It glowed brighter.

I heard a noise in my ears that was like a roaring ocean. It grew louder and louder until the pain in my ears made tears squeeze from my eyes. Yet I could not remove my hand. I was frightened. Suddenly, the noise stopped, and I could hear a whispering.

"_There is one you love, a beautiful child_

_Because she is yours, she will be reviled_

_You cursed her with the way of her birth_

_A crime worse than all upon this earth_

_Another child, in six years will be born_

_He will be her death, this I must warn_

_Born of parents, one pure and one not_

_Born when the seventh month grows hot_

_Destroy him early, or she will pay_

_By never living to see another day"_

The ball released me and I fell back onto the floor.

This was it. This was the prophecy.

The prophecy that caused my Father to go after Harry Potter.

But what did it mean, when it said Father cursed me?

The door opened and Father walked in, looking angry. He saw me on the floor, the drawer open, and his eyes turned from anger to outright fury.

Before I could get up, he took three great steps and stood over me.

"What in the name of Slytherin do you think you are doing?" he snarled.

"How did you curse me?" was my answer. He stared at me, his lips tightening until they almost disappeared. Father turned away and began to pace. "I knew you would have to know at some point," he said coldly, "but I did not expect it to be now." "How did you curse me?" I repeated. To my surprise, his face contorted with sorrow.

"I cursed you with what I did to your mother," he said. I stared at him. I had never once wondered about my mother. "Cynthia, sit down," he said, motioning towards a chair. I pulled myself up and got in the chair, staring at him wide eyed. He began to pace again.

"Your mother's name was Seraphina Bones," Father began. "She was the daughter of Alastair and Isabella Bones. Both were pureblood, but both were Aurors. I decided to have them killed, but by a mistake one of the Death Eaters made, only their daughter was at their home when a group was sent to kill them. She was brought to me, to be used as a hostage. I ordered her to be kept in the dungeons. I went down myself to . . . to question her."

"You mean to torture answers out of her," I said coldly. He nodded, not taking offense. "Yes. I used several means of torture on her," Father admitted unrepentantly. "Yet she would not talk. So I decided . . . to torture her in one last, humiliating way before I sent her back to her parents." "You were going to send her back?" I asked. He nodded. "Yes. So her parents could see what we had done to her before I sent another group to do away with them," he snapped. "So what was this other torture?" I asked, yet I knew. Father sneered. "I raped her. Again and again. She was a virgin. I made it more painful than it had to be."

I blinked back tears. "Go on," I said. He looked at me for a long while before he continued. "I sent her home. I was not able to send a group to kill her family for many months. When I finally sent them, I went along, mostly to torture Seraphina with my presence. I watched her parents be tortured and killed. I made her watch as well. She turned to me with such hate in her eyes, and said 'So will you kill your daughter as well?' I laughed at her and ordered her killed. Then I heard . . . a baby crying."

His face hardened. "I ordered the baby brought to me. I intended on killing it myself. I . . . intended on killing _you_ myself."

I think my heart broke that very moment.

But my Father didn't notice.

"I raised my wand, aimed it at you. I began to form the words. Then you looked at me. Your eyes . . . they were red like mine. I couldn't kill you, Cynthia. I brought you home, to the surprise of the others. I told only the Romanov's and Bella."

I stood up and walked out.

If Father would have followed me . . . if he had not let me go . . .

If.

If.

If.

If so many things . . .


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: . . . Will Set You Free**

I thought back through my life, dwelling on every memory I had of Father.

How I was devastated when he disappeared. All those years of torturous waiting, of loving someone I thought would never return. His return, and how happy I was . . . how happy he was to see me. My promise to myself that I would be his greatest ally.

Even after what he said this night, I still loved him.

I am pathetic.

I am worse than a Muggle.

My Father killed my mother. That I don't care about. Why should I? I never knew her. She couldn't have loved me, either, the result of torture and rape.

I was glad she was pureblood.

But Father . . . he was going to kill me.

Should it really matter? I know he loves me now. He loved me when I was a child.

My first memory is of his love.

I was three, and I was riding my toy broomstick when I fell off into a rosebush. I cried and cried. Father rushed out of the house as I screamed. He picked me up gently, took me up to my room. He picked out the thorns one by one, and sang me a lullaby (he _did_ have a terrible voice but that wasn't what mattered) as he healed my cuts and bruises. Then he pulled me into his lap and rocked me until I fell asleep. The next morning, he took me outside and told me that he would destroy all who hurt me. He set the rosebush on fire.

I know he loves me, so why do I hurt so?

His love has sustained me throughout my whole life. I have not forgotten what he did to Draco, or how he slapped me, or any of that . . . but I have forgiven him. I understand him, you see.

Draco is a Death Eater. Any Death Eater would have been punished the same way if he hadn't obeyed orders. I was only upset about that because I loved him. I know Father loves Aunt Bella, in a way, yet he punishes her as well.

And I should never have said those things about his father. Anyone would have been slapped for that.

No father thinks any man is good enough for his daughter.

I have forgiven him that. But how can I forgive him for this?

I am lost. The pain inside my heart is too great to bear.

I pick up my cloak; go out into the garden, and Disapparate.

I found myself in a dark forest. Everything was pitch black. I pulled out my wand. _"Lumos!" _It was an eerie place with lots of moss and thick cobwebs everywhere, everything covered in snow. I was too forlorn to feel afraid, though, which was a very, very good thing. I had never been in a more frightening looking place.

Picking my way around stumps and rotting tree logs, I made slow progress through the forest. I vaguely felt thorns and briars tearing at my clothes and flesh. I was smacked in the face by a thin branch, and felt the blood running down my cheek with a sort of sadistic pleasure.

Pleasure in my pain. Wounds that I felt in my heart that were manifesting on my body.

I didn't care about anything anymore.

I came to a lake, as a thread of light appeared in the sky.

It was beautiful. Peaceful.

I sat at its edge, staring out over the shimmering dark water. The sky was turning pink, casting a peach color over the reflection of the lake. Birds were singing. Strands of smoke could be seen in the distance, likely from someone's cottage.

I knew what I was going to do. It was all I had left.

I stood up, walked to the edge of the deep water, crunching the frozen edges with my boots. I took off my cloak and my robes.

I clutched Slytherin's necklace . . . Father's soul . . . and I jumped in.

The water was freezing. I felt my skin grow numb quickly, and then I felt nothing. I held on to the necklace, willing it to send my love somehow to Father . . . as well as the reasons I was doing this.

It spoke to me. It told me that no matter what had happened in the past, my Father loved me. There would be no end to his misery when he found out I was dead . . . and he was the cause.

I changed my mind. I tried to swim, but I was already too frozen to move.

"Father . . ." I whispered, my mouth filling with ice water.

I saw something above me. A dark shadow. I was so happy. I knew it was Father, coming for me.

At the same time, I knew it was too late.

I saw Draco's face before I died.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Heaven**

_A/N: evil grin HA! The cliffhanger! I couldn't help but write it that way, believe me, the last chapter was supposed to be longer but I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF! And so everyone knows how evil I am, I did have this chapter written last night, but that would have spoiled all my cliffhanger fun! Sorry! lots of evil laughter Oh yeah . . . WARNING! SEXUAL CONTENT! Ok ok, so here goes . . . _

I woke up to the loveliest smell. The smell of violets.

It was what I had always wanted to smell when I was in the afterlife. Violets.

I was dead. I knew I was.

But . . . my lungs hurt worse than any pain I had ever felt. And one is not supposed to feel pain in the afterlife.

But . . . I had to be dead. I smelled violets. I sat up.

I _was _dead. I had to be. Because . . . there was Draco, asleep next to me.

He stirred as I moved about. His beautiful storm cloud eyes opened and looked at me.

Suddenly, his arms were around me, and he was sobbing.

"Merlin, Cynthia, I thought I lost you!" he cried. I stared down at his hair. "But . . . I'm dead, aren't I?" I asked, confused. Draco held me at arm's length. "No, stupid. Of course you're not dead!" I blinked, wondering what to think. "Are you sure?" I asked him. He laughed and pulled my head to his chest. "No. But you almost died."

I pulled away. "Draco, I tried to kill myself." He nodded. "I know, Cyn. I saw you." "You did?" I stared, still confused. "Yes," Draco said, his tone pained. "I was at the lake, watching the sunset. I looked across it, and I thought I had to be dreaming, because I saw you standing there at the other end. I saw you throw yourself into the water . . . and I knew what you were trying to do." He smiled and caressed my cheek. "But I saved you," he whispered. "I saved you and thank all the gods, you're alive!"

I was sure he was lying.

But I knew that Draco would never lie to me.

I closed my eyes, all at once remembering why I had chosen death over life.

"I wanted to die," I whispered, falling down onto the covers.

His arms came around me once more. "You can't die," Draco said. "How could I live if I knew you were dead?" I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me. "How have you lived since . . . what happened with us at Hogwarts?" I asked softly.

I saw pain in his eyes. Horrible, horrible pain.

Draco nestled down next to me, my head in the crook of his arm.

"The moment I knew Pansy hadn't succeeded in killing you was the happiest moment of my life," he said, his tone echoing the pain and worry he had suffered. He was silent for a long moment. "Cynthia, I never told you . . . I am a Death Eater." I stroked his arm. "I knew it," I whispered. "How?" Draco asked incredulously. "I'll tell you when you're done," I said, patting him.

He cleared his throat before continuing. "I was given a mission by the Dark Lord. I was to . . . to kill Dumbledore. And although I did succeed in finding a way to allow Death Eaters into Hogwarts, I was . . . unable to fulfill my mission." I felt his body shudder. "Then what happened?" I asked in a soothing tone. Draco swallowed hard. "I was punished, by the Dark Lord himself," he whispered. "The only pain worse than what he inflicted on me was the pain of knowing I was to never see you again."

My heart skipped a beat.

I didn't know what to say to this. Such sentiments were nothing like the Draco I had known.

I was touched by his words, more than I can express.

"But you have me now," I said, cuddling closer to him. His hand reached up and touched my cheek. "I know," he said softly. "How did you get here?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. He shuddered again. "This is my punishment," Draco said harshly. "This forest is full of werewolves. Every fortnight they come here to report what they have found out about various insignificant missions. Every full moon, I must place at least a hundred charms on this cottage or else they can get through. I have no desire to be a werewolf, you know."

I laughed at this, but immediately grew sober.

"I know, Draco, but I don't think they had the desire to, either," I said. He was silent. "I don't know, Cyn," he said after a while. "The way they act . . . well, sometimes I think they really, really like it. I believe that if they had the choice of being human again, or remaining a werewolf, most would choose to stay what they are."

We lay there, each thinking our own thoughts, for what seemed like hours.

Finally, Draco got up and said he would fix something for us to eat. He refused to let me help, or even get out of bed.

In less than a minute, he had conjured up some eggs, bacon, and toast. I devoured it like I was never going to eat again. Draco laughed at my appetite, saying playfully that it was unladylike. When we were finished eating, I insisted on going out and washing in the lake. There was no bathroom in the one room cottage.

I was happy to see that he followed me out.

I pulled off my robes, standing naked in front of him, and with a smirk, I stepped into the water and began to wash with the small hunk of soap he had given me.

I didn't care about how horrible I thought I looked anymore. I was bound on living life to its fullest, since I had been given a second chance.

Draco didn't seem to mind, either.

I smiled at him as he handed me a towel.

Then suddenly, I was in his arms and his mouth was on mine.

Draco kissed me hard, his tongue edging its way into my mouth. His strong arms tightened around my body, his calloused hands running down my back, sending shivers down my spine. His mouth trailed down my cheek to my neck, and then down my neck to my breasts. I cried out as his tongue lapped at my nipple, his warm breath soft and warm and teasing. Draco took my hand and pulled me down with him, laying me gently on the soft grass of the bank of the lake.

His mouth and hands were all over me. I don't know how to describe the feelings I felt at that moment. Draco moved his mouth down my stomach to my opening and lapped at me until I screamed. Then his mouth was on mine again, and he was lying on me . . . I felt a sharp pain . . . and then the most fulfilling pleasure.

All too soon, it was over.

We lay there for several minutes, the warmth of the sun caressing our bodies.

Then we went indoors and did it all again.

We did it again and again, every day for a week.

If I had been in Hell before, then this was definitely Heaven.

But the reality of the situation was . . . it wasn't Heaven at all.

After I had been in the cottage for a week and a half, Draco mentioned that soon was the appointed time for the werewolves to come and make their reports. We made plans for me to hide in the wardrobe when they came. I put a charm on the wood so they wouldn't be able to smell me.

Two nights later, we heard a popping noise that told us someone had arrived. I started to get into the wardrobe.

Merlin . . . all the gods . . . why . . .

Why didn't . . .

There is no use to think about 'why'. There isn't even any solace in writing this down, but it must be told.

The door burst open before I could get in the wardrobe.

It wasn't a werewolf.

It was my Father.

He took one look at me, his eyes burning with red flame.

He raised his wand, and uttered those fateful words.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

I wish it would have been me.

Me.

Me.

But it wasn't. It was Draco.

The last time I held my love in my arms was when he was cold and unfeeling. He didn't even know I was there, because my love . . . my life . . . my Draco . . . he was gone.

Father watched me sobbing over his body for several minutes, and then grabbed my arm and Apparated back to the manor.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Sorry this took so long to update. I've been getting so many messages to updatemy other most popular fic, The Unfathomable Passion, that I've been working on that one more than this one. From now on I promise to work onboth equally. Unfortunately,I have been attempting to switch all my fics from my old computer tomy new one, which is taking a while, soI might not update as often as I usually do. So please bear with me if this fic isn't updated quite as often as usual, and don't worry, Iwill finish this! (I say that because I got so many messages asking if I wasgoing to finishmy other one! Like I would do thatto everyone!) Anyway, hope you like the chapter . . . and its little twist.P.S. Thanks to all of you who love and review this fanfic. It reallymeans a lot to me! _

**Chapter 12: And So It Is Done **

Father left me in my room, after taking away my wand and placing wards around my four walls, preventing me from leaving again. He left me in there for a week, sending food and drink through a house-elf.

I refused all sustenance. What was the point when my love was dead?

When the week was over, Aunt Bella was sent to me.

"Why do you want to see me?" I asked, not getting up from the bed. "I have been the death of your nephew." She came to sit beside me. "He should not have tried to have you," Aunt Bella said cruelly. "He has gotten his just reward for daring to touch the daughter of the Dark Lord." I turned to look at her, shocked at her words. I looked in her eyes and noted that something was not right with her. She smiled and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.

"You don't truly believe that, do you, Aunt Bella?" I asked, staring at her. Her face hardened. "Cynthia," she said slowly, "you are the daughter of the most powerful wizard in the entire world. One day your powers will be as great. Does that not mean anything to you?" "What good is anything without Draco?" I asked quietly, my eyes filling with tears. "Cynthia. You are not listening to me," Aunt Bella said. "When you first knew your Father was alive again, what was your greatest wish?"

"To be his greatest ally," I whispered. "Do you think your Father does not know you made that promise to yourself?" Aunt Bella continued. "Yes, he does. I told him that before," I sighed. "Do you know why he gave you this?" Aunt Bella asked, touching the Slytherin locket reverently. The tears in my eyes spilled down my cheeks. "Because he loves me," I sobbed. Aunt Bella looked at me with tenderness. "Your Father has done more for you than anyone alive," she said quietly. "He lost many years of his life in the lowest form of existence because of the mere _threat_ that your life was in danger."

With that, she got up, kissed my forehead, and left me alone. I lay back down on the bed. Everything she said was true, of course. But I had _loved_ Draco. Surely Father could have let us be happy! After all, wasn't Draco a Death Eater? I sighed. Then suddenly a thought came to me that hit me like a Bludger to the stomach.

Draco hadn't obeyed his orders. He had found a way to Dumbledore and in the end, didn't do what he had to. That was why Father did not allow us to be together.

Draco really _wasn't _worthy. Even though I loved him, he was weak.

My heart tore apart.

What kind of person was I to think such things about the man I loved?

The man who was . . . is . . .

I can't continue that thought. I cannot say it aloud. I cannot think of my suspicions . . .

Not now.

I must think of what I am going to do.

Do I live my life regretting the past, hating my Father whom I still love deeply?

Or do I forget Draco . . . forget the life . . .

No. Not now.

Someone knocks on my door. I sit up on the bed as Father enters the room.

The moment I see his face, I know what I must do.

I throw myself on the floor in front of him, kneeling with my forehead on the floor. "Father," I said quietly. "I wish to apologize for my outrageous behavior, and I hope you will forgive your disobedient, unworthy daughter." He is silent for a moment. Then I feel his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up to a standing position. His red eyes bore into my own amber ones.

Then I am in his arms, where I am supposed to be. "My daughter, my life, of course I forgive you," he said, stroking my hair. I let him hold me for a few more minutes before I pulled away from him. "Father," I said. "I need to ask a favor." "What is it, my child?" Father asked a little warily.

I took a deep breath. I am a descendant of Slytherin, I remind myself. I am the daughter of Lord Voldemort.

I must make a sacrifice as Father made one for me.

I look him straight in the eyes as my decision is made final. I will have no regrets.

"Father, I wish to destroy the life of the child growing within me," I said clearly.

His eyes bore into mine, and in their reflections I see my eyes have turned scarlet.

He reads my choice in the color of my eyes and he raises his wand. Points it at my abdomen.

I cry out in pain as my child . . . Draco's child . . . is sent into the void.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part 13: Destruction **

For the past year, I have fought alongside my Father for domination of Britain.

Many things have happened since the day I allowed my child to be murdered.

My father continued training me in the Dark Arts. For some reason, one Father knows but I do not, the power of my Dark spells have magnified. I am almost as strong as Father himself.

I insisted on being sent on missions along with the other Death Eaters. Father was against it at first, but when I pressed him, he reluctantly allowed it. My first mission was the annihilation of the Ministry of Magic headquarters in London.

Two hundred Death Eaters, including myself, under Severus Snape, Aunt Bella, Lucius Malfoy, and other Dark Generals who had been released from Azkaban entered the Ministry in broad daylight. The chaos was, in my view, one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. The fear and panic we inspired boosted my adrenaline in such a way as to make me feel as I did when making love with Draco.

At first, all I did was observe, hidden back in the shadows of a couple of statues. Then someone fell in front of me. I recognized the man as Ronald Weasley's father. He leapt to his feet and in that moment, I decided to act.

He was a filthy Muggle lover, so I destroyed him as a filthy Muggle.

I pulled a knife from the sheath at my waist, the knife Aunt Bella had given me as protection in case I was wandless . . . and I slit his throat.

I watched him stare at me, and I could see the wonderment in his eyes. The shock of the pain, knowing he was about to die. He pointed his wand at me, but was unable to articulate a spell. I lowered my hood so he could see me. His eyes bulged . . . and then grew glassy. I picked up his wand, covered with his blood, and put it in my pocket.

I smashed his face in with my boot and walked away whistling.

The chaos was all around me, but I didn't mind it.

The exultation of my first kill made me realize the extent of my power. Bloodlust ripened within my very soul, the euphoria I felt has no words to describe it.

My eyes were burning red.

The Ministry workers, the Aurors, everyone stared at me as I passed. A smile was on my face.

I raised my wand. Words came out of my mouth that I have never heard before.

Screams of people in pain, in worse pain than even the Cruciatus curse could inflict, erupted around me. The Ministry men and women were cowering on the floor, their hands over their ears to stifle the sounds of their own screams. The Death Eaters froze and stared at me with fear. Aunt Bella, her robes covered in blood, removed her mask slowly and looked at me with a combination of awe and excitement.

"You all might want to stand away from these maggots," I said with a smirk. Some of the Death Eaters obeyed. Others did not, and when the bodies of the Ministry witches and wizards exploded, their robes were covered in the remains.

I took a shower the moment we got back to the manor, and was unable to see Father's face when he was told what I had done. I'm sure it was rather amusing.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself, and collided with Father as he tried to enter the bathroom.

"Good Gods, Father!" I cried. "I was _showering_! What if I hadn't put a towel on yet?" He followed me into my room in silence, watched me as I sat on the bed and began combing my hair. "What spell did you use, Cynthia?" Father asked finally. I studied a lock of hair, pretending to have a difficult time untangling the knot. "I don't know. One that just came to me," I answered. "There is no spell I have heard of yet that kills an _entire_ group of people by boiling their blood until they explode . . . at the same time choosing the ones you _wish_ to kill over your allies!" Father said, his tone angry.

I shrugged. "I don't know what I did. Are you saying you are unhappy that every member of the Ministry of Magic at work that day is dead?" He stared at me, his red eyes flashing. "No, Cynthia," he said in a much calmer tone. "Of course not." He watched me in silence. I smiled up at him. "You are afraid I am more powerful than you, aren't you, Father?" I asked. Father's rage was magnificent. His eyes blazed, he drew himself up, he clutched his wand, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

I laughed at him. "Father, I am on _your_ side," I said calmly. "You are afraid of me, and you shouldn't be." I laughed harder, watching the grey skin on his knuckles turn white from gripping his wand so tightly. "Do you honestly think I want to destroy you and lead the pathetic bunch of imbeciles you call Death Eaters?" I smirked. "I don't think so. So don't worry. I love you, Father. I wouldn't harm you." He sank into a chair, shaking his head. "You are right," he said coldly. "But you should be careful, Cynthia, that you do not consume yourself with your power."

He stood up and made to leave. I felt bad for saying what I said. I ran to him and put my arms around him. "Father, I love you," I whispered. "Everything I do is for you. Everything." His eyes gleamed down at me. I felt him relent, and his hands came down on my head. "I love you too, Cynthia, my daughter," Father said. "Forgive me for being so angry." He smiled. "After all, your power comes from our shared blood. How can I be angry with you for that?" We laughed together. "Put some clothes on, my child, and join me in my quarters for dinner."

I nodded and he opened the door. "Wait Father, I have something for you." I ran to my dirty robes and pulled out Weasley's wand. I placed it in Father's hand. "What is this?" he asked. I smiled. "Arthur Weasley's wand. Sorry it's bloody, Father, the blood got on it when I slit the Muggle-lover's throat. I had hoped we could send it back to his family, along with a nice little message about how we are so sorry he died."

Father looked down at me with the same gloating look I knew was on my face. He laughed harder than I had ever heard him laugh before.

"As you wish, my child," he said, turning and walking away.

His laughter echoed down the hallway, and I smiled in happiness.

Since that day, I have been one of Father's head generals. We have led attacks on Ministry and Order of the Phoenix bases throughout Great Britain, destroying most of their followers. Yet not once have we caught or even _seen_ Potter, Weasley, or Granger. But we know what they have been up to.

You see, Father created six Horcruxes, instruments that held a piece of his soul so he could never die. To our surprise, four of the Horcruxes have been destroyed. One, a ring belonging to our Peverell ancestors, was destroyed when Dumbledore was still alive, so we assume it was he who destroyed it. Another was a diary Father kept when he was in Hogwarts, and was destroyed by Potter, who did not know what it was.

Another Horcrux is a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Father sent a troop of Death Eaters to retrieve it from the Riddle house where it was hidden . . . but it was gone. In its place was a letter.

_To Our Favorite Dark Lord Voldie,_

_Guess what? We found your Horcrux and destroyed it! And don't worry, we shall find the others and destroy them as well. Good luck staying alive!_

_From your friends,_

_Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley_

Father was fuming with rage. He sent a troop to the Weasley home to kill all the Weasleys, but none were there. The house was deserted.

We had to content ourselves with the murders of Fred Weasley and his new wife, Angelina Johnson. The twin Weasley was also there, but after we wounded him he ran without trying to save his brother and sister-in-law. Pretty smart of him, I thought.

We found a similar note in the location of the fourth Horcrux, a sapphire necklace belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. Retaliation for this was the murders of the entire Longbottom family, including the insane parents of Neville Longbottom. We chose them because of Longbottom's friendship with Potter. I killed Neville myself. I was surprised. He had gotten much better with magic since he stopped attending Hogwarts. He actually succeeded in _wounding_ me. He used the Expelliarmus spell and knocked me backwards into a cabinet. I sliced my arm open on some broken glass.

For that, I used the Cruciatus Curse on him until he died. It took several hours, but I consider it time well spent. For good measure, I made him watch me kill his girlfriend Luna Lovegood, who had been staying at the Longbottom home with him since the untimely death of her father.

There are only two Horcruxes left, and I will be damned if I let Potter destroy them.

One is the Slytherin locket around my neck.

The other is Lily Potter's wedding ring.


	14. Chapter 14

**Part 14: The First Confrontation**

For some strange reason, I kept having disturbing dreams about Neville Longbottom's face and how he looked at me as he died.

Each dream began with a gray fog, so thick that I couldn't see what was there. I walked through the fog until I stumbled over something I couldn't see. I would search the ground and after a few moments the fog cleared and Longbottom's body would appear. He would cower and his mouth open in silent screams. His face was purple and contorted in the most disgusting expressions . . . the look of pain and yearning for death. But his eyes . . . his eyes were different.

They looked at me with this expression . . . like he wanted to tell me something. That, more than anything else, was what disturbed me about these dreams. I would not call them nightmares, although I did wake up in a cold sweat after each one. And I had at least one a night. They began to irritate me so much I mentioned them to Father.

"You are growing soft," he laughed. "No . . ." I said musingly, tapping a finger on my cheek. "It is almost . . . like he is trying to tell me something. Something important. It is like the dream itself is an omen." Father smirked. "An omen, Cynthia? What could that ridiculous Longbottom boy possibly have to warn you about?" I shrugged. "How am I to know?" Father laughed at my seriousness and patted me on the back. "Why don't you take a Serene Sleep Potion and be done with the dreams?" Father asked. "Perhaps I will," I smiled at him.

He ruffled my hair as he used to do when I was a small child.

Our tender moment was interrupted by an urgent knocking at the door.

Father swept into a chair and nodded at me. I opened the door to see Severus Snape, looking rather irritated. "You may enter," I said with the hint of arrogance I knew would rouse him to a fury. He glared at me and strode in, kneeling on the floor in front of my Father. I closed the door and went to stand behind Father's chair, making it seem like Snape was kneeling to me as well. His eyes glinted with anger, but he kept his expression a mask of indifference. I stifled the urge to laugh as my Father told him to rise.

"My Lord, we have found Potter," Snape said, deliberately avoiding my gaze. "And where is the Chosen One?" Father asked sneeringly. "Staying in an abandoned house close to the old Black crematorium, Master," Snape said quickly. I snickered. Snape looked appalled and glanced at Father as if he was hoping I would be punished. "Cynthia," my Father began. Snape's expression was exultant. "You will accompany Severus in one hour to the Black crematorium and bring Potter back to me. Kill the Mudblood and the blood traitor."

Snape's face fell and he opened his mouth to say something. I beat him to it. "All right," I sighed, picking at my cuticles as if I didn't greatly care. Snape's eyes widened at my impertinence and he kept glancing from me to Father with wide eyes. Father merely waved his hand at Snape in dismissal. Snape backed out of the room, gave me one more caustic glance, and shut the door.

"You do egg him on, don't you daughter?" Father said, amused. "That is because it is so fun," I said happily, sitting on the arm of Father's chair. "So Potter took the bait, didn't he?" Father nodded. "Yes. I am glad I thought of putting a fake necklace in place of the real one." "When did you do it, exactly?" I asked. "Oh, way before Dumbledore found the ring," Father said airily. "You see, I learned he was going around trying to collect information about me and what I had done after graduating Hogwarts a year after I recovered my body. I meant to retrieve all my Horcruxes, but my time was considerably encroached upon and I was only able to recover this."

Father touched the locket that never left my neck. He smiled at me. "I left the fake necklace, along with a note to lead Dumbledore astray. R.A.B. Regulus Abraxus Black." He laughed. "And look where it led the little Golden Trio." I laughed with him. "Father, am I to be under Snape's command?" I asked after a few minutes. "He is considerably more experienced in this sort of thing, Cynthia," Father said soberly. "I expect you to obey him." I sighed. "Fine. But you owe me." He burst into a rare fit of amused laughter.

"And what will my lovely daughter want in exchange for this submission?" he asked. I screwed up my face, pretending to think hard. "Can I play with Potter before you kill him?" I asked finally. Father laughed again. "Catch him and I'll say yes," he said. "Now come. We must meet Severus downstairs."

Snape and ten other Death Eaters, all the cruelest and quickest with their wand, were waiting in the downstairs hall. Snape ignored me completely as Father gave his orders. We were to capture Potter and kill the other two, unless one or another of the Death Eaters wished to bring the Mudblood back as a toy.

I have to say that Snape and I had the same disgusted expressions on our faces when Father said this.

When everyone was ready, we Disapparated, appearing in a small alleyway some ways from the home Potter was believed to be staying at.

Snape divided us into two groups. I was in his group, which was to enter the house and attack. The other group was to stay outside; circled around the house to make sure no one ran out and stayed alive. They were also to cast wards around the property so no one could Disapparate or somehow get away. With these instructions, we approached the house with caution.

We could see shadows moving about the windows, through tattered, filthy curtains. To our surprise, there were not three but four people inside. Snape contemplated this for a moment and then gave the signal to attack.

We burst in the door, catching them by surprise. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and a girl I recognized as Weasley's sister Ginny all shouted in fear and shock. I could tell when they tried to Disapparate . . . the fear on their faces when they realized they couldn't was just wonderful. Hexes and curses began flying everywhere. The four somehow dodged all the curses and ran into another room, going down a trap door into the basement. Snape motioned for me and two others to follow him downstairs.

I went last. Before I even descended the first step, I could hear Potter berating Snape for killing Dumbledore. Suddenly a cloud of darkness enveloped the basement. I was confused, for I knew it was not a spell. "It's that bloody Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!" Snape shouted. I was shoved aside roughly by an invisible somebody and fell hard on my side. Someone broke a kitchen window and I realized what Potter and his friends were trying to do. I raised my wand. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Something fell to the ground with a loud thump. I heard three thumps hitting the ground outside and I ran to the window. "They're out here!" I cried, but it was too late. There were three cracking sounds on the street and I knew they were gone.

But we had one of them.

Snape and the others ran up the stairs. "They're gone," I said calmly. Snape's face grew white as he thought of the consequences of not completing orders. "There's one here on the floor," I told him, watching as his expression grew hopeful. "Who?" he asked sharply. I shrugged. "I don't know. Let me see." I raised my wand. _"Prodeo!"_

The red hair and white freckled skin of Ginny Weasley appeared before us all.

Without a word, Snape picked the girl up and walked outside. "We leave now," he told the others, and we all Apparated back to the manor.

Father was not pleased.

I don't know exactly what he said to Snape, but it must have been really bad as he wouldn't let me in to hear it.

Snape came down to find me, looking very pale but determined. I was in a small room off the downstairs hallway, keeping an eye on the girl. She was sitting in a corner, her knees drawn to her chin, staring at me with a combination of hatred and fear. The moment Snape walked in, he closed the door behind him and glanced at me.

"We are to question her," he said spitefully. I yawned. "All righty," I said cheerfully. "Do you want to question or punish?" The girl shuddered, her gaze transferring from me to Snape, whom she stared at with loathing. "I shall question her," Snape said, taking a seat by the door. "You . . . you filthy monsters," the girl said quietly. I rolled my eyes. "Get on with it, Snape," I said irritably. He stared down at the girl, a small smile playing about his mouth.

"Where is Potter going?" Snape asked calmly. She said nothing. "I will only ask once more before you will be hurt," Snape told her. Still she said nothing. "Where is Potter?" asked Snape again. Nothing. I smiled and raised my wand. _"Crucio!"_ The Weasley screamed and twitched in pain. Snape nodded to me and I released her. "Where is Potter?" Snape asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I won't tell you," the girl gasped. I looked at Snape, who was smiling. He shrugged and I aimed my wand at her again. _"Crucio!"_

When her screams subsided, Snape asked her the question again. I had to use the Cruciatus Curse on her twice more, and still she would tell us nothing. "That will be enough for today, Cynthia, don't you think?" Snape asked me. I nodded. "Yes, we don't want to kill her before she talks. You know, I think she might even last longer than that Longbottom boy did if we decided to keep going with the Cruciatus. She's a tough one." Her head raised feebly at the mention of Longbottom and she narrowed her eyes at me. "Yes, I killed him," I said airily, smiling at her. She shuddered and passed out.

"Shall we take her down to the dungeons?" I asked Snape. He shook his head. "No . . . give her a proper bed," he said thoughtfully. "I want her all rested up for tomorrow." I grinned at him and he returned the smile before he left.

Thinking how weird it was that Snape and I were getting along, I conjured up a bed and levitated the Weasley girl into it, binding her there tightly. Then I went to the kitchens to get something to eat.

Torturing someone does make one rather ravenous.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Contains torture, rape, and other nasties so if you don't like . . . skip this chapter._

**Part 15: Is Death Really Salvation**

The past two weeks have made me realize there are just some people who can't be broken.

Ginevra Molly Weasley happens to be one of them.

I honestly don't know how she managed to live through what we have done to her and not only still be alive, but is still not talking. She even managed to build up a wall around her thoughts so Snape can't use Ligilimency against her. I do have to admit, she is a very powerful witch.

She has begun to irritate me in the worst possible way. She bores me, and that just drives me crazy. You see, Snape and I have spent hours upon hours with Weasley, torturing her with every curse we know. Snape and I switched off torturing and interrogating . . . but to no avail. We allowed several others to try, those pathetic Death Eaters who find that they like to physically torture people with knives and beatings and things like that, more worthy of Muggles and Mudbloods than pureblood wizards. Weasley's screams have filled the halls of the manor we are staying in; her white skin is now black, purple, and red. None of her wounds have been healed, and believe me, there are many.

One night, a few nights into her capture, I woke up to the sounds of screaming and shouting. I went downstairs to investigate and was absolutely appalled. Several Death Eaters had conjured up masks to resemble Weasley's dead brother Fred, her father Arthur, and Harry Potter, and were wearing them as they raped her. I was sickened, yet engrossed by what they were doing. It amazed me how sex can be performed in so many different ways . . . lovely, fast, furiously, painfully, degradingly . . . the list could go on and on. What Draco and I had was everything but what they were doing to her. She was astride one who was grinding her hips down on him, while another took her roughly from behind and another had his member in her mouth. The Death Eaters were shouting obscenities at her the whole time.

I watched for a moment before going back upstairs. Snape was on the top of the staircase, looking at me with an expression that I knew meant he understood exactly what I was thinking. "I take it you aren't joining them?" I asked. He snorted. "It's disgusting, what they're doing," Snape said irritably. "If it was just one raping her, then it wouldn't be as bad, but no, it has to be all at once like some kind of slimy Muggle sex video." I laughed at that. "Sometimes it makes me wonder if we are working alongside true wizards or Muggles in disguise," I said, shaking my head. Snape raised an eyebrow and nodded. "I was wondering the same thing. You might as well put a Silent-Walls charm on your room, Cynthia, or else you won't get much sleep tonight." "I'll do that," I answered, making a face and looking back down the stairs. "Good night . . . Severus." His eyebrow rose higher. "Good night, Cynthia."

Yes, I have begun to call Severus by his first name. I don't know why . . . other than that maybe he is the only one here in this madhouse that seems to have more than half a brain.

As I said before, it has been two weeks since Weasley has been brought here. There have been no signs of anyone attempting to find her, either. I find that very sad.

Today, as Severus and I left the breakfast room to attempt to interrogate Weasley once more, we found she was being raped once again. There was only one Death Eater this time, and he was penetrating her in the anus. Blood was everywhere, and she was screaming so loud I thought my ears would fall off. Before we could say anything, we heard Father shouting from the top of the staircase. _"Great Bloody Gods, I am sick of hearing that girl scream!"_ Severus and I exchanged surprised glances. Father _never_ spoke that way, considering it beneath him. We watched in shock as he came stomping down the stairs looking absolutely livid, pushed us aside, and raised his wand.

_"Avada Kedavra!" "Avada Kedavra!"_

Both the Weasley and the Death Eater fell lifeless to the ground.

Father stormed back up the stairs, muttering about how it would be nice to get some peace and quiet for a change. Aunt Bella passed him on her way down, giving him an amazed look. "What just happened?" she queried. "Nothing really," said Severus nonchalantly. "I think I'm going to go work on my new potion."

With that, he left us. I knew he didn't much like Aunt Bella, but I didn't know why. She watched him go with an amused look and then glanced in the room where Weasley and the Death Eater lay dead. Her eyes widened. "Is that the Weasley girl?" she asked incredulously. She had gotten back from a mission only that morning, and didn't know we had her.

I nodded as she went into the room, nudging Weasley's body with her toe. Aunt Bella gave me an evil grin, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Want to have some fun?" she asked. "With a dead body?" I cried. She laughed. "Not _that_ kind of fun, stupid! Give me your knife." I handed her my knife and watched in amusement as she flipped Weasley's body over onto the back.

"Do you want to send little Potty a present?" Aunt Bella asked. "After all, Christmas will be here in a week or so." I laughed. "All right, what do you have in mind?" Aunt Bella grinned and positioned the knife over Weasley's stomach. She began carving words into the dead girl's flesh. I watched with a combination of horror and excitement as she carved _To Potter, The Boy Who Lived. From The Death Eaters. Happy Christmas!_ She let out a truly evil laugh as she finished. I cocked my head to the side. "It needs something . . ." I said, my lips pursed in thought. "Oh, I know!" I drew my wand and conjured up a big green bow, and then placed it on Weasley's hair.

Aunt Bella laughed so hard she fell over. "That's _precious_!" she shrieked. "Come on now, let's send Potter's gift to him." "Where will we leave her?" I asked. She grinned. "Diagon Alley, where else?" Aunt Bella and I levitated the body out into the front yard, picking up Death Eater masks on the way. We both took hold of the body and Apparated to Diagon Alley. There weren't many people about as we threw the body down onto the street, but the ones who were there started screaming their heads off.

"This is for Harry Potter!" Aunt Bella shouted before grabbing my arm and Disapparating.

We arrived back at the manor and collapsed into a fit of giggles.

Two days later, Father came into my room and tossed a Daily Prophet into my lap. On the cover was a picture of Weasley when she was at Hogwarts. Next to it was a picture of her body lying in the street, covered with a blanket. The headline read: DEATH EATERS MURDER ANOTHER WEASLEY! I laughed as I read the article. It basically said that Ginevra Weasley had been tortured, raped, and killed in a brutal manner, Death Eaters had already killed her father, brother, and sister-in-law, how the rest of the Weasley's were in hiding, and funniest of all . . . how Harry Potter had come to see the body. According to the paper, Potter burst into what was left of the Ministry demanding to see the Weasley girl. _"His horror, devastation, and anger were a sight to behold,"_ the Prophet said.

Father was watching me as I laid down the paper and began to laugh. "You and Bella did this, didn't you?" he asked coldly. I looked up, expecting him to be mad . . . but to my surprise he began to laugh. "Child, you are a wonder!" Father said, shaking his head. "I did well in making Bella your godmother! She will teach you things no one else can!" He left soon after, still laughing.

I saw Severus later that evening. He gave me a half amused, half exasperated look. "What?" I asked. "I saw your little . . . gift," he said with a snort. I shrugged. "Yes, so? We are supposed to be generous during Christmas, aren't we? Sharing good cheer and all that nonsense?" Severus bit his lip, trying to hide a smile. "Do you think it was wise, showing yourself in public where any Auror might have captured you?" Severus asked. "No," I answered, "probably not. But it was fun!" "I wonder if Miss Weasley thought it was fun," he replied. "She was already dead," I cried. "Already gone and feeling no pain." "Death . . . yes . . ." Severus said slowly. "Death was her salvation, I see." He smirked. "Is death really salvation? I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

He walked away with a thoughtful look that made me wonder exactly what in Slytherin's name he was rambling on about.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part 16: Truth Will Be Told**

Nothing is so amusing to me than people begging for their lives.

I have had many an amusement since the Weasley incident.

With Potter and his two cronies searching for Horcruxes they will never lay their fingers on, the Ministry in shambles and the members of the Order of the Phoenix either dead or in hiding . . . our side has won. Won with my share of torturing people and hearing them scream for their lives and the lives of their loved ones. We have won.

You heard me correctly.

We have won. Father is the acknowledged leader of all Britain's Wizarding community. We are moving our things into Hogwarts . . . Father's chosen headquarters . . . as I speak.

The Gryffindor quarters have been . . . shall we say . . . remodeled . . . to accommodate me. They are now my personal rooms. The staircase leading to separate dormitories has been changed, now there is only one large bedroom upstairs. The common room has been redecorated in pure Slytherin style, with green and silver hangings and black furniture. Father made me a gift of many books from the library, so I have them up here in bookshelves that line the walls. In respect for my family name, I have created a coat of arms combining the arms of Slytherin, Gaunt, Peverell, and Father's own personal Death Eater symbol. It hangs above the fireplace in what used to be the common room, a beautiful combination of ebony wood, onyx, silver, and emeralds.

Father has called a meeting of all the Death Eaters and the former leaders of the Wizarding community to discuss his plans for the new regime. The ex-leaders, mostly Ministry officials, have no problem obeying Father as their families lives are at stake. Tonight will be a celebration banquet to honor Father and our new superiority.

Father sent up a gown worthy of a princess for me to wear, as well as some jewelry fit for a goddess. Four house-elves have been sent up for my own personal use, as I refused to have any of the Mudbloods whom we have captured as slaves around me. Only Aunt Bella and Severus follow me in this. Everyone else was happy to take the Mudbloods and use them as household and sex slaves. I found that being around them gave me the creeps.

The house-elves curled my hair and left it hanging down as my Father requested before placing the diadem of silver and emeralds into which was carved the Dark Mark on my forehead. I refused all makeup except for a blood red lipstick. The elves helped me into my dress . . . which was made of black silk and was sleeveless with a corset style bodice that laced tightly up the back. The bottom of the dress flared out into a bell shape and was open from the waist to hem in an upside down V shape to reveal dark gray silk with a black lace overskirt. I thought it was lovely and worked well with my gray skin.

Two emerald and silver cuff bracelets were placed on each of my wrists, heavy matching earrings in my ears, and a necklace so covered with large emeralds that it felt as if it weighed more than I did was placed around my neck.

I looked in the mirror as I walked down to find Father, and found myself satisfied with my appearance in spite of the fact that my skin had grown grayer and my eyes redder since I had left the Romanov's.

The Death Eaters and the others had already arrived and were in the Great Hall. I noticed that Father had replaced the teacher's tables with a high podium draped in green with two intricately carved yew chairs sitting in the middle. The Hogwarts banners had been taken down and the Dark Mark now glowed behind the podium. I felt a touch on my arm and turned to see Severus standing behind me. "You look . . . rather nice," he said, raising an eyebrow. I laughed. "Thanks," I said. "So do you." He was wearing a new set of dark green robes and his hair was clean and combed nicely for once.

Aunt Bella came up behind him wearing green satin dress robes, with emeralds in her hair. She was smiling happily at me. "You are gorgeous, Cynthia," she said, looking me over. "Your Father is coming in a few moments. You are to wait here until he calls you out." Sure enough, Father strode up only a few seconds later. "Cynthia, child, you look wonderful," he said quickly before walking out onto the podium with Severus and Aunt Bella right behind him.

The silence in the hall was as deafening as if everyone was screaming at the same time.

Father stood in front of the tallest chair, while Aunt Bella and Severus stood on either side and a little behind the chairs. "You were called here to witness the birth of a new era," Father began, his voice ringing with cold triumph. "Here is the era wizards were meant to live in. Where we will no longer hide ourselves from Muggles, but instead make Muggles bow to us . . . as all wizards will bow to me. No more will we have to hear of Mudbloods or half-bloods. All unions between purebloods and Mudbloods or Muggles are now prohibited. Those of you who keep Mudbloods as slaves will ensure no child is born of your use of them."

He glanced around the room with a look of sneering happiness that made his listeners cringe. "Those of you who proclaimed your allegiance to me before my victory will be rewarded by becoming the first Wizarding nobles. You will be awarded titles according to your rank as Death Eaters. Those of you who are highest in rank will be called Optimas, those lower in rank will be called Nobilitas." Father was silent for a moment before continuing. "The way this will work will be explained later. As for those of you who were against me and are joining me now . . . hear me well. All it will take is one instance of disobedience or irreverence and you and your families will be killed. Painfully killed. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

There was murmuring throughout the vast crowd. Father glanced around the room with a smirk. "I will rule you all," he said clearly. "You will refer to me as the Master or the Lord. Nothing else. No one is to speak my name, or their tongue will be cut out. I have two Death Eaters who are to assist me in ruling, and who you will obey as if you were receiving orders from my own lips." Here, Severus and Aunt Bella stepped forward. "You will address these two as Bellatrix Sublimis and Severus Sublimis. They are raised higher than you all for their loyalty and competence."

Father waited until Severus and Aunt Bella returned to their places beside the chairs before he spoke again. "There is another whom you must obey, whose rank is second only to myself. For years I have hidden her, kept her from her proper rank . . . and now she will be given her rightful place. I am referring to my daughter. My daughter and heiress, Cynthia." He held out his hand to me and I walked out slowly. There were audible gasps all around the room. Aunt Bella was smiling and looking at me with pride. Severus looked shocked, his mouth open in a perfect O.

I took my Father's hand and together we sat on the chairs.

It was the happiest moment of my life.

I was so delirious with pride that I didn't hear what my Father said next.

When the time for the banquet arrived, Aunt Bella sat next to me at the High Table along with Father and Severus. "So how does it feel to be Princess Cynthia?" she asked with a grin. I stared at her, not knowing what she meant. She rolled her eyes. "You did hear your Father, didn't you?" Aunt Bella asked, poking me in the side playfully. "You are to be called Cynthia Reginae . . . Princess Cynthia."

So that had been what Father was saying. I grinned at her. "I like it very much, Bellatrix Sublimis," I teased. She laughed. "Sublimis . . . Raised, sublime. Yes, I like it well." She sat back in her chair, glancing around at the other tables. "The first Wizarding Nobles," she said quietly. "I wonder how Lucius likes being an Optimas . . . one of the best . . . ha!" She snickered derisively. "And there is disgusting little Wormtail at that table . . . Master made him a Nobilitas. Nobility doesn't make him any more attractive." Aunt Bella sighed and took a long sip of wine.

"It _is_ rather amusing, isn't it?" I asked her. "Not as amusing as our gift to Potter, but there you are." She snorted with laughter. "We'll have to find a way to top that little prank," Aunt Bella said happily.

The rest of the meal was boring and tiring, as Father insisted on having all the newly made Optimas and Nobilitas come up to our table and personally declare their loyalty to him . . . and to my surprise, me as well. It all went on and on . . . way past midnight.

I was very tired when I returned to my room.

I washed my face and hands and allowed the house-elves to help me change into my nightgown. I was all ready to get into bed when a house-elf came to tell me that Father was waiting to see me in my common room.

He was scrutinizing the coat of arms I had made as I came down. "This is beautiful," he said, turning to look at me. I smiled. "Thank you, Father." "Cynthia, my darling daughter, are you happy with your new title?" he asked. "Yes, I am. Although it did come as a surprise," I answered, coming into his open arms. He held me for a few moments, tight against his chest.

"I am happy to let the truth be told, Cynthia, and to proclaim you as the Princess you have always been . . . in my eyes at least."

When he said that, everything I hadn't forgiven him for was forgiven. We were as we were when I was a child . . . a revered father and beloved daughter.

In that moment . . . that wonderful moment . . . everything was as it should be.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part 17: The Second Confrontation**

It was not long before we found out that Potter and his cronies, Granger and Weasley, had gathered together the remaining wizards and witches who still wished to fight against my Father and was planning an attack on Hogwarts.

We found out about the attack in a rather strange way.

Severus and I were in my room playing a game of chess when my house-elf approached, curtsying deeply. "Princess, there is two men to see your guest." I waved a hand, annoyed at being disturbed while thinking of which move to make. "Fine, fine. Go get them, Posey." She scuttled away but soon returned with two burly Death Eaters in tow. Both dropped to the floor and knelt, awaiting my permission to speak.

I took several minutes to make my move while the Death Eaters remained kneeling. I could see Severus' amusement, and flashed him a smile before turning to the two who had interrupted our game. "What _is_ it?" I asked haughtily. Neither rose, as I hadn't told them they could. One looked at me with fear in his eyes. "P . . . Princess Cynthia, th . . . there is a prisoner in the dungeon . . . w . . . wishing to speak with Master Severus Sublimis."

Severus sneered at the man. "And who might this prisoner be?" "She . . . she won't tell us her name . . . M . . . Master Sublimis. She just insisted she speak with you," the man stammered. Severus rolled his eyes. "When was this woman captured?" "M . . . Master Sublimis, she came right up to the castle demanding to speak to you," the other Death Eater said. "Shook the gates of the castle, she did." Severus sighed and glanced over at me. "Do you care to join me, Princess?" I smirked. "I must say this has peaked my curiosity. Shall we say I won and begin a new game later?" Severus laughed and stood up, giving me his hand to assist me up.

We followed the two Death Eaters down to a grimy dungeon that held three occupants, two men and the woman. She was a short, very thin woman with mousy brown, unkempt hair and ugly brown eyes. Her face was gaunt, as if she had been ill and hadn't eaten for days. She was also incredibly filthy. Severus nodded to the Death Eaters to bring the woman out of the room and then turned to walk down the hall to what we used as an interrogation room. He conjured up two chairs and offered one to me. When the woman was brought in, Severus used his wand to create chains that held her against the wall. The Death Eaters bowed themselves out and left the three of us alone.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Tonks," Severus said tauntingly. "So have you birthed a litter of baby half-breeds yet, or does the werewolf want to wait to start a family?" I stared at the woman with disgust. How anyone could mate with a werewolf was beyond my comprehension.

To our surprise, the woman began to sob. "He doesn't want me anymore," she cried. Severus laughed. "You were left by a werewolf? Great Merlin, Tonks, as if you couldn't sink any lower!" She continued to cry with deep, heaving sobs that soon began to irritate me. "Just ask her what she wants with you and be done with it, Severus," I said. "Before I end up killing her just to shut her up." "That . . . that is what I want!" Tonks cried. I stared at her. "You _want_ me to kill you?" I asked incredulously. She nodded vehemently, tears pouring down her cheeks, making trails of white in the brown filth that was on her face.

Severus seemed a bit subdued, chewing on his lip and concentrating hard on the woman. "Why did you come here?" he asked finally. Tonks let out a great sniff, snot running down her nose and into her mouth as she answered. "I hate him! I hate him! I want him to die for the pain he's caused me!" she screamed. "He and Harry and the last of the Order have gathered all who wish to fight against Voldemort for an attack on Hogwarts!"

Severus and I exchanged wary glances. "How do you know this?" Severus snapped. "I was one of them!" Tonks screamed. "But now . . . all I want is death! I don't care what happens to the others after I die! I want him _punished_!" "When is this attack supposed to occur?" Severus asked, regaining his composure. "In two days time! At midnight! Harry . . . he found a way to kill Voldemort forever." I stood up and pointed my wand at the distraught woman.

"What do you mean?" I snarled. She raised tear-filled eyes to mine. "It is . . . it is an amulet. A necklace. It . . . it will destroy Voldemort and every part of his soul not within his body." I screamed in fury and opened my mouth, ready to curse her into oblivion. Severus jumped forward and grabbed my wand, pulling me away into a corner.

"You mustn't kill her," he whispered into my ear. "She must be given Veritaserum . . . and any other methods we have of detecting a lie to find out if this is true." I clenched my jaw. "You are right, of course, Severus," I said through my teeth. "I think . . . I will go inform Father while you make the arrangements."

I was amazed at my self-control.

I walked out of the dungeon and went upstairs.

Unfortunately . . . I really didn't have good self-control.

A Muggle slave, chains on her wrists and ankles, came down the stairs slowly, carrying a bucket and mop. I drew my wand. _"Crucio!"_ I shouted, watching as she fell down the rest of the stairs, screaming in pain.

Her screams stopped abruptly as she snapped her neck on the landing below. I snorted and continued up to Father's room . . . the old Headmaster's quarters.

The two serpents that had replaced the gargoyles slithered aside, allowing me entrance. I hurried up the stairs and burst into the room, where Father sat at his desk before the fire. "What is it?" he asked in alarm. I briefly told him what Tonks had said. His eyes narrowed to red slits as he listened. "Likely it is just a ruse," he said, but stood up just the same. "Come with me and we will see what this is all about."

We arrived downstairs just as Severus had finished with her. Severus looked from me to Father with a strange look in his eyes. "All she said is true, My Lord," he said quietly. "Potter will lead an attack on the castle in two days time. As for the amulet . . . she believes it to be true." Father's face was inscrutable. "Severus, will you take Cynthia upstairs and see to it that we are readied for this attack," he said slowly. "I will stay and . . . _interrogate_ our little informant."

I could hear her screams before I even reached the end of the hall.

Severus, Aunt Bella, and I, along with Uncle Theodeus, prepared our plan of defense before alerting the rest of the Death Eaters. Severus had found out that at least eighty people were to be fighting alongside Potter . . . most of them young witches and wizards who attended Hogwarts with him, but there were older ones as well. Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Kathleen Finnigan, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour Weasley and George Weasley were amongst those who were older and more prepared for a fight of this magnitude.

We were ready for them when they came.

Apparently, Potter used a secret tunnel underground Hogwarts to enter the castle.

It was the easiest fight we ever won.

In my anger, I drew upon my power and burnt annihilated them all. They didn't even get a chance to articulate one spell. I did, however, save Molly Weasley and George Weasley. I had developed a taste for torturing Weasleys, and Mistress Molly and Master George . . . well . . . they were prime torture material.

I did notice, however, that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley were not amongst the dead. I ordered Molly and George taken to a dungeon and the Death Eaters to search the castle.

But as they all ran to do my bidding . . . I realized I already knew where they had gone.

I ran upstairs to Father's quarters. I screamed.

Granger and Weasley were circling around a strange sort of barrier that looked like solid fog. Inside the barrier, I could see Father and Potter dueling.

Granger turned to me, wand drawn as I tried to draw my power . . . but it was already spent. She aimed a curse at me but I deflected it easily. Weasley hurried over to join the fight, and I found myself deflecting curses left and right. I ducked under a table just in time to miss the Stunning jinx and was finally able to send a curse towards Granger.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ I shouted. I heard Weasley's scream of horror as Granger fell to the ground in a flash of green light. _"You fucking monster!"_ he shouted, his face as red as his hair. I was unable to get out of the way as he attacked me with his bare hands.

His strong fingers came around my throat and I gasped for air. The viselike grip Weasley had was slowly and painfully killing me. I was seeing splotches of black when a faint thread of my power came back to me . . . and I used it the only way I could.

I changed my form to that of Granger's.

The two seconds my power lasted . . . the two seconds Weasley released his grip on me, his eyes wide with surprise . . . that was all I needed.

I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach. He fell away, gasping in pain. I grabbed my wand from the floor, feeling my eyes blazing red. But he was too quick. Weasley grabbed my hands and we rolled around the floor. In the scuffle, Lily Potter's ring slipped off my hand and rolled across the room.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow I threw him off me and I reached my wand before he could stop me.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ I screamed for the second time that night.

After smirking at Weasley's lifeless body, I turned to help Father. The barrier was gone. I couldn't believe Potter had lasted this long. Something caught my eye . . . something glinting gold that was hanging around Potter's neck.

It was the amulet. And it was glowing faintly.

It seemed to be burning Potter because he yelped and yanked it off his neck. His gaze went from Father to something on the ground and he gasped. Father sent the Killing Curse at him but Potter ducked, grabbing at something on the floor. He pushed it into the amulet. It began to glow brighter.

Potter stood up and began chanting some words that made it glow bright red. I realized he was going to try and kill Father that very moment.

Father sent the Killing Curse at Potter again, but it was deflected by the amulet.

I screamed, knowing Father was about to die.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 18: Enlightenment**

I felt my blood boil in my veins, my eyes burning a painful red.

No one would ever take my Father away from me again.

The amulet's glow had engulfed both Father and Potter. A white light was appearing in the center of the amulet, growing brighter and brighter.

I stood up and felt my power return.

I dropped my wand. I wouldn't need it.

I walked slowly over to Potter, my body feeling like I had lost all power to move it myself.

I reached out, my arm burning as it passed through the glow.

My hand opened, my palm faced Potter.

I drew upon the power and felt it pass through my body, right towards Potter.

His mouth opened in a soundless scream, his body convulsed as it hit the ground.

I removed my hand from the glow and fell to the ground. I watched with satisfaction as Potter's eyes glazed over in the look of death.

Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived . . . was dead.

But the glow and the bright light inside it still covered Father. He watched it with apprehension and fear as it took him over.

And then it was gone, and Father stood there, very much alive.

He stared down at his hands and studied them for a moment. He began to laugh.

"The power . . ." he shouted gleefully. "The power . . . it is all mine!"

I stared at him, completely confused.

Father kept ranting on and on about power.

The golden glint of the amulet drew my attention and I reached over to pull it from Potter's neck.

It was light as a feather, although the amulet hanging from it was large and heavy-looking. The chain was thin and long . . . if I would have put it on, the amulet would have dangled at my waist. The amulet itself was a triangle shape that was about the size of my palm. There were three gems set in the corners of the triangle. At the top was a ruby, the bottom right was a sapphire, and the bottom left was a yellow beryl. Strange markings were engraved in the center of the triangle, and a small circle that looked like an odd keyhole was in the very middle . . . and in the keyhole was Lily Potter's ring.

I turned it over. There were faint words engraved there.

_Slytherin's blood and Slytherin's bone_

_The bane of the world, the cause of pain_

_Shall once and for all be overthrown_

_Only if our instructions are carried out _

_If this amulet is placed about the neck_

_Of any cursed descendant of Slytherin _

_Through time our power of three will trek_

_The power will enter the one who is left_

_And help to destroy what needs to die_

_Use the incantation and the needed key_

_Or suffer the destruction that will be nigh_

_The end of the world, the end of man_

_We three have seen, we three know all_

_Our power is beyond all comprehension_

_We know what rests on the final brawl_

_And how many lives rest on only one _

_Save our world, or let the world pass_

_Save the lives of all, or let them die_

_The choice will rest with you . . . alas._

_Avadas Kedavrum Serpentium Maga._

I snorted and looked up at Father. To my surprise, he was glowing green.

He looked down at me and laughed.

I was confused . . . but only for a moment.

I reread the engraving on the back of the amulet and I realized what had happened.

The power of the three who created the amulet . . . the power that was supposed to help Potter kill my Father . . . that power had gone into Father instead.

The power entered the one who was left.

"Look at me, daughter!" Father screeched. "Look at me . . . feel my power!" He burst into maniacal laughter. A green light shot out towards me, knocking me into the opposite wall . . . hard.

I felt myself lose consciousness.

In fact, I thought I was dead.

I was in a room surrounded by a cloud-like fog.

I was completely alone . . .

Then I felt someone's arms come around me. I turned.

It was Draco.

"Cynthia . . ." he whispered, holding me close to him. "Draco!" I cried. "Am I dead?" Draco shook his head. "No, my love . . . you are not. Only I am. But I was sent here . . . to show you something." "What is it?" I asked, breathing in the scent of my beloved.

For no matter what I made myself believe . . . I still loved him.

I knew that now.

His hand came over my eyes . . . and I saw . . . I saw hell.

I saw a burning mass of earth, people running around screaming in horror and pain, cracks appearing in the ground they ran on . . . sucking them into it. It was a horrible sight.

"Is this where I'm going?" I cried. "I'm going to Hell?"

He smiled gently down at me.

"That is not Hell, my beautiful Cynthia. It is what the world will be like in only a few hours," Draco said softly. I stared at him. "What do you mean, Draco?" He brushed the hair out of my eyes. "Cynthia, your father will destroy the earth completely in a matter of days with the power he now controls. This will happen because you destroyed Potter."

"No!" I cried. "You . . . I . . ."

He began to fade away, his handsome face staring down at me sadly.

I began to cry, but he was already gone.

I opened my eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Part 19: Finality**

I was slumped on the floor, my head ringing with the pain of being hit against the stone wall. I could feel blood running down the back of my neck, sticky and warm and thick. I struggled to sit up.

Father was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a bright green glow. His white arms were raised to the ceiling, his eyes were not red anymore but a bright serpent green.

"Slytherin!" he shouted, his voice high pitched and feverishly mad. "Slytherin, thank you for this power! With this power I will destroy all Mudbloods and Muggles in your name!" I had never heard him speak like this. I knew he had totally lost it.

He laughed maniacally and turned to walk slowly up the stairs. His footsteps were loud and ringing, like a gong was being hit with every step. I pulled myself up and followed him warily.

Father went up the stairs and into the Great Hall. The unfortunate Mudblood slaves who happened to be in his path were consumed by a green light and burnt to ashes before my very eyes. I saw Severus pressed against a corner, his eyes wide with fear as he watched my glowing Father go by. Aunt Bella came running out of a side room to watch, her face lit up with a maniacal glow that matched my Father's. It was then I realized how mad she truly was.

Several other Death Eaters followed Father out onto the grounds behind me and Aunt Bella. We followed him like students following their teacher during a field trip . . . in a straight line right behind him. Over the grounds we went, down the path to Hogsmeade.

Screams erupted around us as witches and wizards saw Father. Several of them lit up and burnt like the Mudbloods in the castle. I realized I was witnessing the purification of the Wizarding race.

I found myself laughing, jeering at the terrified people around us.

Then I felt something.

A tremble under my feet.

It was an earthquake.

Suddenly, all I had been shown came back to me.

I stared up at Father.

Father . . .

I loved him so. He was everything to me. Everything.

He had tucked me into bed, kissed my wounds when I fell, tried to protect me from everything that would harm me. He loved me and cared for me as no one else would. He was my Father.

But he couldn't protect me from himself.

He would destroy the world, and everything in it. Including me.

The amulet was clutched in my hand. It began to glow.

I ran up to Father, into the burning green light, and threw my arms around him. He stiffened, turning around in my arms to face me.

I looked directly into his eyes.

"Father . . . Father . . . I love you," I said.

He smiled.

I threw the amulet's chain around both our necks.

I suddenly felt warm. A feeling of bliss engulfed my body. I felt the power of the three enter my body and take me over . . . taking over my own immense power and combining them all together. The only harsh feeling was remorse for all I had done.

I was no longer in Hogsmeade. I was no longer with Father.

I saw nothing but a white fog . . . and people. They were all around me. I thought I glimpsed Draco in the crowd . . . holding the hand of a small girl with brown hair and gray eyes.

Then I was no longer in the fog. I was in a white marble room.

Three figures approached me.

All were hooded and draped in cloaks. One in red, one in blue, one in yellow.

They approached me slowly and stopped right in front of me. They lowered their hoods.

It was Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff smiled at me, while Gryffindor gave me an approving glance. "You have stopped one of the greatest evils in the world, child," Hufflepuff said. "I have destroyed my own Father," I replied sullenly. She smiled gently at me. "You have destroyed the Heir of Slytherin," Gryffindor said harshly. "Surely you understand that you have done right!" "Shh!" Ravenclaw chided, laying a cool hand on my cheek. "Daughter of Slytherin, your sacrifice was a great one," she said sweetly. "What will you do with the last of your power?"

I stared at her. "The last of my power?" They all nodded. "Yes," Ravenclaw continued. "Surely you feel it inside you." I did feel it inside me. I just hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing three of the four Hogwarts founders. "You are dead, Cynthia Gaunt," Gryffindor stated bluntly. "You may not take your power with you to the afterlife, nor may you remain here."

I didn't know what they meant.

Then the image of Draco and the little girl flashed through my mind.

I knew what I wanted to do.

I reached for the power and sent Draco and our daughter back to Earth, as well as Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his sister. In a way, I felt that it made up for what I had done.

If I could not live, at least they would be able to.

It didn't mean that I was happy about it. In fact, I was rather jealous. But my power was spent, and I knew I could do no more.

The second my power was gone, I was transported into a place . . . a place to wonderful to describe.

I was immensely happy, I was able to watch Earth, I had no body and no shape . . . but I could feel others around me. None bore any grudges, all were happy and content and . . . like I said. I can't describe it.

So this is death. This is finality.

And Father had been afraid of this wonderful, beautiful existence!


	20. Chapter 20

**Part 20: Requiem**

I am dead, and have been for many years.

I watch Earth constantly.

I am finally happy with my decision to send those I wounded most back to the world of the living.

Death isn't so bad. And yes, there is more than one place to go.

It all depends on how you die.

Those murdered or killed in some violent manner . . . they are doomed to brood on thee way they died until their killers die.

Killers . . . unless they have repented or made a sacrifice large enough to atone . . . they are doomed to eternal torment by those they killed.

Those who died a natural or peaceful death . . . or by some sort of accident . . . they are where I am. In bliss. Able to watch Earth.

Guess where Father is?

I watch Earth, as I said before. In particular, I watch those who made the most impact on my life.

Aunt Bella killed herself a year after Father and I died. She is, more than likely, being tormented by her victims.

Severus took potions to disguise himself until his death and taught in a school in Scotland until his death twelve years after my death. He fell in love with a woman who didn't return his affection, and lived four years in torment. The good side of his loving her . . . this abnormally good woman . . . that he repented of all he had done and is now here with me.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley got married and ended up having three children, two girls . . . Lily and Molly . . . and a boy . . . James Arthur, whom they call J.A. They are wonderful parents and are sending their eldest to Hogwarts this year. Potter is Headmaster at Hogwarts, and Ginny teaches Charms. They live in the remodeled Headmaster's quarters, made to look like a house instead of only three rooms.

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger got married, but divorced after a year of marriage. They just were two totally different people. They are still friends, though. Granger is assistant to the new Minister of Magic, Alexia Barlowe, and loves her job as she gets to boss people around continually. She never remarried, but had an out-of-wedlock child a few years after her divorce, a girl she named Minerva. Weasley remarried a woman named Katie Finnigan, a cousin of the Seamus Finnigan who he went to Hogwarts with. They have nine children . . . seven boys and two girls . . . Harry, Arthur, Seamus and Sirius (twins), Rubeus and Remus (another set of twins), Ginevra, Albus, and Hermione. They all live happily in the old Weasley home at Ottery St. Catchpole. Weasley works at the Ministry as an Auror, and is one of the best.

And then . . . then there is Draco.

He lives in Malfoy Manor with our daughter, whom he named Cynthia after me. She is a beautiful eleven year old child with brown hair and gray eyes . . . and her skin is _not gray_! I'm very happy about that. She will be starting Hogwarts this year. Cynthia and Draco have a very close relationship. He adores her and she him, which is very comforting to me. Sometimes, though, I wish he would be stricter with her so she doesn't grow up spoiled.

Draco met Potter at Diagon Alley . . . and Potter forgave him for being a Death Eater as he knew that Draco didn't want to kill Dumbledore. They are friends now, but not very close ones as Draco prefers to spend his time at the Manor with Cynthia. Draco did, however, meet Potter, Weasley, and their children in Diagon Alley to celebrate their eldest children's entrance into Hogwarts.

Draco makes sure to tell Cynthia all about me . . . well, everything he knows anyway. He never knew who my Father was, but he does know I was the one who sent him and Cynthia back. He doesn't tell her I was a Death Eater, or that he was one . . . although he knows he will have to sometime.

He never married again. He continues to love me . . . and the happiest moment I can think of is when we will meet again . . . this time when destiny decides and not a person.

Am I happy?

Yes. I am.

Things are as they should be.

The Slytherin line has dwindled to a tiny droplet of blood running through little Cynthia's veins. The threat our line presented has been removed.

I just hope that tiny droplet doesn't curse Cynthia as it has the rest of us.

**The End**

_A/N: Thank you so much to Sailor Hecate, who read and reviewed this story so diligently. Alsomy thanks to Nocturnal007, Sophianwin, maddevillechilde, frosty-pink5, trikkiwoo, marisol-1590, and Iluvwritting for their reviews. I am glad you all liked thisstory and hope the ending didn't disappoint.Sometimewhen everything is transferred from my old computer and the other stories I'm working on are finished, I will go over this story and rewrite it. So be on the lookoutfor a brand new,updatedVoldemort's Princess!_


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